Balance and Ruin
by Draconai
Summary: Starlet's Seven. They worshipped not Lakshmi, nor even called her by Starlet. At times they were four, at times they were twelve, but rarely ever seven. Their name came from its lack of connection; for none would suspect this group of mismatched friends, bearing a name linked to one that held little but beauty, to be dancing with their swords... Companion fic to Keys and Crosses.
1. Prologue

Draco: **NEW NEW EDIT:** Apparently, advertising it as a prequel to K+C doesn't cut it. This is NOT a straight literation (novelization, whatever) of Final Fantasy VI, this is NOT a crossover with Final Fantasy XIII. This is accompaniment to an AU fanfic taking place in a world resembling that of Rosario + Vampire, which means that it is itself AU and includes elements of Rosario + Vampire. PLEASE do not read unless you understand this. And to avoid a third notice: If you are not familiar with Rosario + Vampire, I will warn you now that the anime exchanges plot for fanservice, read the manga instead. **END NEW NEW EDIT**

**NEW EDIT:** **[RE-EDITED] **I have come to the conclusion based on certain reviews that you SHOULD NOT read this, and then proceed to read Keys and Crosses. You should instead read Keys and Crosses, and then proceed to read this. Several dramatic revelations in K+C are spoiled if you read this fic. That is not something I want you to suffer. If you are not a Kingdom Hearts fan, feel free to read ahead without continuing, but if at ANY point you get interested in the deeper ends of this, stop reading immediately, and read Keys and Crosses first. **END NEW EDIT**

Alright, this is a (hopefully) small companion fic to my large-scale Kingdom Hearts story Keys and Crosses. Anything in here is fully understandable for those who have not read K+C, but there will be a couple spoilers involved (though nothing a VI-er can't figure out before reveal). Characters from other Fantasies will be making appearances, but nothing with a significantly major role.

All chapters will be named after tracks from the OverClocked ReMix album _Balance and Ruin_. (ff6 {dot} ocremix {dot} org) I strongly recommend the album to any VI-er with the space on their hardware, it's absolutely BEAUTIFUL.

Also, someone bug me about VI again. I'm done XIII &amp; XIII-2, and Lightning Returns has a different gameplay style, so I don't have to worry about readapting gameplay, but I need to do another round of VI.

Characters, weapons, origins... locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Prologue**

"I'm tellin' you, it's not gonna hurt your business!"

The seaside town of New Bodhum was a small community, with a small number of people who enjoyed what it had to offer. NORA House was a small business in for that small community, and everyone knew what it had to offer.

Why did people keep trying to change that?

Lebreau, owner of the NORA House bar, turned that question over in her mind, the setting sun gleaming past her eyes through the open windows. Sazh Katzroy - airship pilot, and a familiar face around New Bodhum - had offered Lebreau a couple ideas to 'spice up' the place, but she had tried to tell him that the concepts were too "out there" for the community. As usual, Sazh had not been quick to let his offer get shot down.

"Look, just give it one night to see how it fares," the pilot insisted. "A couple tables. Blackjack, roulette, maybe Chronobind, it's not gonna wreck-"

"Wait, what was that last one?" Lebreau interrupted. "Chroniwhat?"

"Chronobind," Sazh repeated, slower this time. "I promise you..."

A gathering of laughter caused him to trail off, and the two of them glanced out the open doorway. The laughter was not entirely familiar - indeed, one or two of the voices seemed a bit... _rougher_ than Bohum ought be. Pilot and bartender traded glances; Sazh lowered one hand to his hip, while Lebreau reached under the counter.

The owners of those voices came into view.

Sazh relaxed when he saw the leader of the group - a lightly scarred face, in an ornate longjacket, with five cards in one hand and the rest of the deck in the other, walking almost sideways so as to keep his face on the crowd alongside him. The blonde-haired faces behind him were unfamiliar - a messy muscleman in a brawler's tank top, a much cleaner and decidedly _attractive_ figure in blue armour and cape, and a woman in gold armour - but Sazh knew the guy in charge, and that was enough for him to raise a hand in greeting._  
_

"Hey, if isn't Gabianni!"

The group's leader turned to face them; upon seeing Sazh, he slipped his hand into the deck and pocketed it in his jacket. "Katzroy!" he called. "I got the place right!"

Lebreau glanced between Sazh and the gambler, Gabianni. "You know this guy, Sazh?"

"He's another airship pilot," Sazh explained to Lebreau. "Not exactly a flight service, but friendly enough - and Lady Luck's most devoted. Catch her favour and he's a free ride."

"Easier when she doesn't have a choice," the girl behind him mused.

Lebreau loosed a silent breath, pulling her hands out from under the counter.

The gambler glanced back at her with a rueful expression before turning to Lebreau. "Falcon Flyer, Setzer Gabianni, owner of the airship _Blackjack_, pilot-in-chief for Starlet's Seven."_  
_

"Starlet who?" Lebreau mused.

"It's a long story," Sazh mused.

Lebreau glanced out the doors again before breathing a heavy sigh. "Might as well," she mused. "Drinks?"

"You just got alcohol, or anything softer?" the girl asked.

"Name it," Lebreau replied.

"Raiden Cola?"

The bartender pulled open a minifridge behind the counter, grabbing a bottle and tossed it to her.

"I'll take a glass of Angel Feathers," Setzer mused.

The bruiser and the ladies' man exchanged glances and grinned at one another. Lebreau had seen that wordless exchange a thousand times, and said ahead of them, "How many bottles, and of what?"

"Twelve, of Judgement Bolt," Setzer replied, realizing what had just happened behind him. "For now, anyway."

Sazh leaned back on the counter. "So, who's the rest of your party, Setzer?" he asked of the gambler.

"Phantom Fist, Sabin Rene Figaro," the bruiser replied.

"Desert Gear, Edgar Roni Figaro," the ladies' man added.

The woman took a seat at the counter. "Lady Frost, Celes Chere," she finished, raising the bottle to her lips.

Lebreau raised her gaze, handing Setzer his drink. "Lady Frost?" she mused. "That sounds kinda familiar."

"I wouldn't quite be surprised," Celes admitted.

The bartender was quiet for a long moment, trying to think; then she shrugged, pulling out shot glasses and bottles of hard liquor for Sabin and Edgar. "There's more comfortable seats out on the deck," Lebreau informed them.

Celes lowered her bottle. "Should I begin before or after they drink each other under the table?"

At once, Sazh said "Before" and Lebreau said "After".

Setzer pulled out a coin and flipped it.

"Tails," Sazh mused.

The gambler's fingers curled as it landed in his palm. Peering at the coin, he angled his head from side to side for a moment; then he closed his fingers, saying, "Shall we let them share sober?"

Sabin groaned.

Edgar sighed.

Celes turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Whatever you think is right, you're wrong," Setzer reminded her, pocketing the coin. "And that's a big mistake."

The group headed out to the deck, Lebreau bringing with her a mix of her own. Sabin and Edgar began pouring shots in preparation; once six glasses had been filled for each of them, they turned to Celes.

Lady Frost set her bottle, now empty, onto the table as the sun vanished on the horizon; and lit only by the stars, she began to weave their tale.

* * *

Draco: You know where this is going.


	2. Now Is The Winter

Draco: As per usual, my first few chapters are coming in quick. We'll see how long this particular starting surge lasts. Quick warning; we're going to start off with several chapters of mostly Starlet-unrelated backstory just to establish a few things.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Now Is The Winter**

"I hate the cold."

The squadron of soldiers on the march through the icy snowfields was in a generally foul mood. At the head of the troop, the two co-commanders, known as Biggs and Wedge, were very irritable. Wedge was lacking in behaviour to show for it; Biggs, not so much.

"Oh, come on," Wedge mused, trying to lighten his partner up. "You're in seven layers of warm clothing and you put on your skinsuit earlier, it's nothing you can't put up with for another ten minutes."

Biggs growled. "Knock knock."

Impressed by his compatriot's sudden change in attitude, Wedge gladly played along. "Who's ther-"

"I hate the cold," Biggs interrupted.

Wedge sighed in exasperation, glancing back at the squadron - every soldier bore a face that said _enough of this_. "You're not the only one," Wedge muttered. "Don't worry. We get to Narshe, we'll warm right up - one way or another."

Biggs sighed. "Fine," he mused, "but I'm not taking point in this weather anymore."

They could see the settlement ahead of them. The city of Narshe, deep in the cold northern regions, was their destination, always with a lookout ready to approach anyone newly come to its borders, and as the soldiers continued to march on, they found themselves approached by a guard, warmly bundled. Though his hand was buried in cloth, from it protruded a sharpened cane. "Halt," he called.

Wedge raised a hand, causing his company to slow to a stop; then he and Biggs stepped forward, each of their hands on their hips - where a pair of revolvers lay waiting.

The guard looked over them. "Your faces..."

"You do not recognize us, by our appearances," Biggs mused.

Suspicion was to be expected. His left ear, and Wedge's right ear, were tapered to points; their other ears were ringed with spikes of flesh. Another such spike protruded from each of their jaws, pointing to right from left, and left from right, respectively; above Biggs' left eye was a triangular edge that buried in his hair, and a similar edge was raised over Wedge's left eye. The soldiers, likewise, bore faces covered in fleshly distortions.

Anyone would look at their faces and say they were monsters.

Mostly because the rest of their bodies were bundled for the chill.

The guard shook his head. "I do not, " he said firmly.

"And because you do not recognize our appearances, you suspect us," Wedge continued.

"I do," the guard admitted.

Biggs and Wedge exchanged glances. "Were we to say 'monstrel'," Biggs mused, turning back to the guard, "what would that name bring to your mind?"

The guard raised his cane at his side. "That would bring to mind a desecration," he replied.

Wedge smirked. "And were we to say we bore that identity...?"

"I would see no reason not to sound the alarm," the guard insisted, reaching for a nearby switch with his empty hand.

A moment of pause; their gazes locked on one another.

Then an incredibly irritated - yet incredibly _relieved_ \- sigh emerged from both leaders; Biggs raised his left hand, and Wedge raised his right, fingers splayed, before turning the palms towards one another. A collective groan sounded across the squadron as they cast their packs to the ground.

"Lady Luck smiles at us," Wedge sighed, reaching for the sharpened ear on his right side. With a minor wince, he pulled - and the tapered edge pulled itself away, revealing the ordinary, unadorned ear that it had obscured. "We were afraid Narshe had already been occupied. We're from the Empi-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence; for the guard raised his empty hand towards the soldier, and a _bolt of fire_ launched from his palm, slamming into Wedge and sending him and his seven layers of clothing flying back. Biggs swore, leaping back as the guard swept his cane through air only just vacated - and his bundled clothing began to **burn**, revealing a jet-black suit and tie beneath it, and five tails rising around at his waist.

"He's a yoko!" Biggs roared as the troops pulled themselves to their feet. "Shiva maneuvers, NOW!"

The men reached for their backs, drawing and loading a collection of machine guns as the yoko at the city entrance cast his cane to the snow. Biggs leapt away as his soldiers panned out, so as to not strike their compatriots as they began to fire at the monster before them; yet the flaming fox only lashed his tails forward to catch the bullets.

He was genuinely impressed when the bullets began to _freeze the flame of his tails in place_, leaving his movement forward hindered by his own body.

The soldiers emptied their clips into his tails, freezing them nearly to the point where they met his humanoid flesh; the moment their weapons clicked empty, each soldier released his trigger, pried his empty clip into the snow, and pulled a fresh Shiva clip from his belt to load into his weapon. Biggs himself had a rifle in his hand, having just loaded a Shiva round, and he took three paces to the side so as to get a good shot at the yoko's center mass.

"Regiments disguised as monsters," the fox mused, his gaze on his tails, "and armed with weapons for specific targets..." He turned to Biggs. "You must be Gestahlian troops."

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Biggs demanded. "You turning away other monsters?!"

"Monstrels are a desecration upon monsterdom," the yoko said to him, his voice trembling with anger, "and not welcome into this occupation. Were you to bear that identity, I would sound the alarm - for monstrels are the very definition of diamonds scattered in a pile of gravel, and I would rather not take the risk that a diamond withstand my blows. But humans are still less welcome here - yet I need not sound the alarm to such opponents."

He raised his hand towards his tails - and the ice upon his tails instantaneously _melted_ as he lashed his tails back.

"For no human, no matter his armaments, is a match for a yoko in the winter of a war!"

The soldiers began to fire upon him; yet his hand lashed forward, and a _stream_ of fire lashed out before him, melting their bullets and freeing the coolant within. The wall of ice that forged upon the vanguard of his flame melted against the wave, and the troops quickly abandoned their weapons and leapt away as the flames melted six feet of snow beneath where their feet had been.

No sooner had he relaxed his stream of flame than Biggs took the opportunity to fire his rifle. The Shiva round caught his chest, and he gave a shout of pain as the ice quickly wrapped his torso. The men quickly raised their weapons again, this time in a staggered fire; the troops at front emptied what remained of their clips into the yoko's body, spreading the chill further across his flesh, before falling to their knees to reload, clearing the path for the next set to fire.

When the last group had emptied their clips, the yoko was frozen in what was nearly a block of ice.

Biggs kept his weapon, reloaded, braced to fire for ten seconds; then he lowered it and stepped towards his fallen partner. When he had neared Wedge's still form facedown in the snow, he prodded it with his foot.

No response.

He nudged it again. "Wedge, get up."

Still no response.

"Come on," he echoed, "you're in seven layers of warm clothing and you put on your skinsuit earlier, it's nothing you can't take."

Wedge chuckled, rolling over - and revealing the yoko's blast had burned a clean hole through five layers of fire-retardant winter garments. "Just about," he admitted, pulling himself to his feet. Glancing at the frozen yoko, he mused, "The Shiva rounds worked."

"Only just," Biggs countered. "We'll have to tell the techies to get a stronger coolant if we wanna-"

A _scream_ of melting ice caused the two of them and the rest of their squadron to turned. The yoko's encasement was melting from the _inside_, and as Biggs raised his rifle again the yoko reached towards the co-commanders with two fingers extended to form a finger gun.

The commander fired.

The demon fox fired.

The inferno melted the bullet's casing and the coolant within before it had a chance to freeze the fire, and the blaze continued towards Biggs; the soldier had only time to open his mouth, a scream forming in his lungs, before the flame connected with his face and his cranium _melted_, the liquified bone flying in every direction.

"Biggs!" Wedge's roar was filled with horror, even as he grabbed the weapon before it could hit the ground, raising it towards the yoko; yet the fox had already fired another bolt, which seared through the hole in the first five layers, burned through the last two, and tore through his heart.

And then _blazed out the back of the seven layers._

Wedge was suspended in place before falling to one side, landing upon his partner as the soldiers, panicked, began to fire - knowing they stood not a snowball's chance in hell.

+x+x+x+

"Data back from the troops sent to Narshe."

A heavy sigh emerged from the man sitting at a desk in the weapons lab. "Automatic, or manual?" His voice was heavy with knowing depression.

The messenger set the file upon his desk. "Automatic, as per usual," he replied in a like tone.

Emperor Gestahl, leader of the Gestahlian Empire, could only nod solemnly for the messenger to depart as he picked up the file. The war between mankind and monsterdom had been going on for years now, and they had reached what the Emperor considered to be the "winter" of the war. His family had long classed its wars by seasons; spring when the war begins to bud, winter once full conflict has been reached, autumn if and when it turns sour, summer if and when it turns sweet.

This particular war had been in winter for a full year - and was growing no warmer. Every attempt for mankind to fight back against the monsters had ended with great unfavourably. Other armies had tried armaments of increasing _power_; but Gestahl and his scientists continued to attempt _new methods_, weapons specialized for each monster on which they had information.

Not power nor strategy had yet borne any fruit.

He looked over the files for a long moment before casting them on his desk for the next passing lab hand to pick up. Each soldier was outfitted with a hidden camera upon their uniforms, so as to gather data on their opponents even should their bearers fall in combat - yet even with this, they had been able to get little more than scraps of information.

"The war's autumn will be upon us before long," the Emperor mused grimly to no one.

The door nearby swung open, and Gestahl turned to see an ever-welcome face step into the lab. "Father, are you in here?"

"My son," he called, "what brings you here?"

The young Gestahl shrugged, approaching the desk at which his father sat. "How are things coming along?" he asked.

"Not well," the Emperor confessed, turning back to the file. "Everything we develop - none of it stands a chance."

A grim silence filled the air at that observation.

"Say, Father..."

The Emperor turned to him. "What is it?"

"Humans... we don't stand a chance against monsters." Young Gestahl turned to his father. "Do we?"

"No," the Emperor admitted grimly. "We do not."

Another pause.

"Well..." Young Gestahl held his teeth against his lip for a moment. "What if we were to fight them... _with_ monsters?"

Now, _that_ was unexpected, if nothing else. "What are you saying?" the Emperor asked.

"Perhaps, if we were to capture monsters - _any_ monsters - we might be able to stand a chance," young Gestahl explained. "Imprison them, find _some_ way to put their abilities to _our_ use. Then we work our way up. If we-"

"The risks you're talking about are astronomical," Emperor Gestahl reminded him. "We would be _more_ than vulnerable if they were to turn on us in the field of battle."

"Do we have another choice?" young Gestahl countered. "If we don't do _something_, they'll overpower mankind as a whole."

The Emperor shook his head. "We cannot," he insisted. "I'm certain that, given enough time, we'll be able to devise _something_ to counter these creatures."

Young Gestahl winced. "We may not have that time."

"The alternative is too risky," the Emperor replied. "I'm sorry, son, but we cannot."

A long moment passed; then young Gestahl turned and departed from the lab, leaving his father deep in thought.

+x+x+x+

_"Alert! Monstrous presence detected in Epsilon Sector! Identities unconfirmed! Defensive units, move out! Alert! Monstrous presence..."_

The advantage to having the Emperor for a father is the ability to position oneself wherever, whenever, without question. Young Gestahl, intent on studying their opponents up close, had always accompanied the soldiers stations as defense for the city of Vector. On the true field of war, mankind had won no battles (unless sniping the succubus leader when she had called for the town of Maranda to surrender qualified as a battle); but when it came to home defense, humans had been capable of nearly matching the monsters - and none were better at matching the monsters than the Gestahlian Empire.

The Epsilon Sector housed the everyday businesses for the people of Vector - grocery, garments, and bars - and it was at the doors to one of the bars that the soldiers found the monstrous attackers. It was astonishingly small for an attack group; only three, and women at that. Young Gestahl was at the lead of one set of soldiers as they approached the group head-on, with two other units pinning them from ether side.

"Only three?" Gestahl murmured. Then, realizing what had happened; "It must be a diversion." Turning to the nearest soldier, he shouted, "Put the squadron for Iota Sector on alert. Rear troops, take guard!"

The back half of each set quickly turned, weapons prepared to fire on any monsters that might take form, as Gestahl turned his attention back to the monsters. One of the girls, who seemed significantly younger than the others, was making no effort to disguise herself; a pointed hat and a rod tipped with a crescent moon made her stand out as a witch. Another girl was less obvious to unattentive eyes, with a lollipop in her mouth; her hair was the only giveaway, the unnatural icy blue of an abominable snowgirl. The third girl looked nearly human; but her figure was impossible, and her very presence seemed drawing, the only indications that she was a succubus.

The succubus and snowgirl were back-to-back; the witch had her wand before her as she glared right at Gestahl's set of soldiers

The Emperor's son held his hand out to one soldier, who handed him a six-shot revolver; Ghestal took two steps forward, levelling the weapon on the witch - who seemed to be the youngest.

"You are surrounded, and a thousand bullets are braced to fire should you make the _slightest_ offensive action," he called to the girls. "Witch, put your wand down."

Slowly, the girl at the front reached down, setting her wand on the ground.

"Snowgirl, remove the candy from your mouth, slowly."

The girl of blue hair reached for her lollipop, drawing it from her mouth - revealing it to be cherry-red - and held it in her hand.

"All of you, put your hands in the air."

With the slowest of movements, the girls raised their arms skyward.

Ghestal beckoned for his soldiers to maintain their stance while he stepped towards the girls, his revolver still raised. "Pretty young to be fighting in a war," he mused. "Either you're a diversion for a real attack... or you're kids goofing off."

"Would you believe me if I said we were here looking for dates?" the succubus mused.

The witch elbowed her in the side, only to panic and duck her head as her hands went back skyward. When no one fired, a shaky breath passed through her lips.

Gestahl shook his head. "What are you doing here?"

"We thought we could sneak in," the witch replied, "and break this army from the inside. Didn't expect you to be so defended."

A curious hum passed through young Gesthal's lips. "Cocky little things, aren't you?"

"Tell that to the soldier in the front row," the succubus mused, beckoning her head towards the troops she was facing. A couple snickers were heard in that direction, but no one lowered their weapons.

Curiously, the snowgirl was beginning to sweat - despite it being a fairly chilly day for Vector. "Can have my candy back?" she murmured.

Gestahl was confused for a moment; then he snapped his fingers in realization. "Right," he mused. "Abominable snowgirl. Temperature-sensitive. That sucker must be a coolant?"

The snowgirl nodded.

The Emperor's son turned away, not saying anything about the candy. "Well, ladies, I think it's safe to say that _you_ are not the important threat here. It's actually kind of funny. I was speaking with the Emperor earlier, entertaining the possibility of capturing monsters - because humans, honestly, don't stand a chance against you. We were thinking of perhaps... using you as our main offensive troops."

The girls exchanged glances.

Young Gestahl sighed, turning back to them. "Sadly, he shot my idea down," he replied. "Said that it was too risky. Said that you could turn on us without a moment's notice."

He raised his revolver to aim at the witch.

"So, it would seem _capture_ is out of the question."

The witch's eyes went wide.

A moment's pause; then Gestahl smirked, lowering the revolver again. "But you know... what data we get comes in few and far between. You're always killing us before we can get any good intel. Perhaps I can convince him to let me imprison you."

He snapped his fingers.

A soldier stepped forward, handing him a radio, and he raised the device to his mouth. "Father, it's me. We have the infiltrators. A trio of kids. Requesting permission to capture. Over."

_"What monsters are they? Over."_

"Succubus, snowgirl, witch. We're in the Epsilon sector. Over."

_"I'll have containment prepared by the time you get back. Over and out."_

Young Gestahl tossed the radio to its owner. "Well, that went lovingly. Come on - and no funny business. You make a wrong move and I'll fill each of you with a thousand holes."

The succubus raised an eyebrow. "You're not worried about firing on your own troops with a move like that?"

"There is not a human soldier in this world who is not willing to die if it means taking a monster with him," Gestahl replied.

At that, the soldiers closed in, and the monster girls had no choice but to be led towards the Imperial Palace.

* * *

Draco: I always mess up Gestahl's name. I want to write it Ghestal.


	3. The Megiddo Brigade

Draco: I never get Megiddo right. I always write it Meddigo or Mediggo or something.

It took a lot of effort to not refer to young Gestahl as "Seinen Gestahl". This doesn't make a lick of sense to any of you who haven't seen me on deviantART but it's Kingdom Hearts spoilers so wait for me to PM your review before you ask questions.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**The Megiddo Brigade**

"Welcome to the Gestahlian Imperial Palace."

Young Gestahl's words were wrought with menace as he led the three prisoners and the soldiers for the Epsilon Sector into the palace. The soldiers had confiscated the witch's wand, though the snowgirl had been allowed to keep her coolant-candy in her mouth for the trip. "You should consider yourselves lucky," he added, turning to the girls. "You are the first, and may well be the _last_ prisoners the Empire has ever taken. Thus you could be the only monsters who will ever see inside these walls."

He turned. "And, indeed, you will never see anything again."

His footfalls resumed, and one of the soldiers nudged the succubus in the back to get her moving. "With this war between humans and monsters," young Gestahl continued, "we've been running so very many tests trying to find a way to fight back. Everyone else just thinks _Hit 'em hard, and him 'em again _\- but not us. The Gestahlian Empire knows that brute force will win the easy battles, and preparation will win them all."

The Emperor's son had taken them into the palace through the labside entryway, and now they neared walls of glass - bulletproofed panes that allowed soldiers and officials to get a good look without harm. "And preparation means targeting weaknesses," Gestahl continued, turning around again and walking backwards. "Our projects are labelled for Feymarch's warriors. The swift currents of a mermaid face the heat of Ifrit. The mighty heat of a yoko faces the chill of Shiva. The frail chill of a snowgirl faces the bolts of Ramuh. For every monster on which we have gained any sort of data, we have armaments that, at the very least, _try_ to strike at the chinks in their armour."

It was then that a man in long, ornate robes approached; and the company came to a halt, prompting Gestahl to turn and stop. Each of the soldiers raised one hand forward before crossing it over their chests and bowing in salute.

Young Gestahl only bowed his head. "Father," he greeted. "Come to take the prisoners firsthand?"

"Thought I might see them for myself," the Emperor replied. Then, to the monsters; "You must be the infiltrators. I am Emperor Gestahl. Might I ask your names?"

"Screw you," the witch snapped.

One of the soldiers landed a blow across her jaw; the force of the attack knocked her to the floor.

"Have their cells been readied?" young Gestahl asked of the Emperor.

"They have," the Emperor replied. "Lead them this way."

Another soldier dragged the witch back to her feet as the group began to move once more, and young Gestahl resumed his backward pace. "See, when this war started, I was kinda... _new_ to how our army handled things," he explained. "I thought we took more prisoners! So when I realized iron bars and concrete walls wouldn't be _nearly_ enough to contain you guys, I set up a couple, um..."

He came to a stop of his own accord as the Emperor opened a door nearby.

"...custom imprisonments."

Emperor Gestahl took the witch by the arm, leading her into the room as his son explained. "Witch's magic, for example. Studying what data we had, I figured out that their fancy spells - _useless_ against a fully artificial entrapment. Nature is their weapon - and here, nature has no reach. There is no wood, no dirt and stone, no fresh spring. Just solid. Steel. Walls."

The door was slammed, and the Emperor beckoned for the group to continue. "Speaking of water," young Gestahl added to his father, "remind me to revamp the plans for the yoko cells." Then to the succubus and snowgirl; "I thought cold would be a fox's worst enemy, but that's not happening. Our troops to Narshe got _obliterated_ for trying to freeze fire. I'm thinking water will be a better option, but maybe I should wait for the Leviath designs to have a field go."

"Probably the best choice," one of the soldiers mused.

"You tried to fight a yoko?" the succubus asked. "_I_ hardly survived a round with one of those guys!"

Young Gestahl fell silent. "We were screwed from the start," he said to his father.

"Undoubtedly."

The next door opened from the inside, a scientist stepping out of the room, and one of the soldiers grabbed the succubus's shoulder, that she would step forward. She was led inside, and the scientist then followed her in as the door closed. Young Gestahl sighed, turning to the snowgirl again. "I'll admit that seeing the succubus footage made me feel... a little uncomfortable," he confessed. "I seriously thought that only went one way. I had to go through all the rest of our monster data and a whole six-pack of Earthen Fury before I could come back to it."

The snowgirl gave a sympathetic wince.

"However," he admitted, his voice lightening again, "after I was in condition to work, I was able to determine that succubi have an **instinctive** need to _dominate_. They can_not_ submit to a man. How they find boyfriends with an attitude like that is completely beyond me."

The scientist stepped out with a studious expression on his face.

The soldier followed with a look of _utter horror_ on his.

"So naturally, submission is the whole _point_ of **this** particular imprisonment."

The soldier stepped up to the Emperor. "Permission to visit the bar, sir," he forced out.

Emperor Gestahl looked to his son.

"Granted," young Gestahl replied.

The soldier took off past the rest of the squadron, and the Emperor led the group to the next cell as young Gestahl turned back to the snowgirl. As she passed the door, she made the mistake of looking through the window - and was _horrified_ by what she saw. He decided to hold his silence as the monster tried to regain her composure.

"Rope won't hold her for long," she muttered.

"Oh, that's not rope," Gestahl replied. "That's mythril cable."

Another moment for her to recover from the statement.

"I'm gonna sound like such a pretentious ass, here," the Emperor's son added, "but when I saw you were sweating, in Vector winds, all I could think was _Succe~ess._ I had figured snow, meant natural body chill, meant room temperature is _infernous_. But that was all conjecture - until you wanted your candy back, and I realized that it's packing a coolant like our Shiva rounds. I'll bet that if anyone but a snowgirl or a yoko takes a lick of that thing, they'll freeze _solid_. Seven layers of frostbite, easy. Anything warmer than 0 Celsius is going to feel to you like a hot summer to me."

It was then that young Gestahl grabbed the lollipop protruding from her lips as the Emperor pulled the next door open.

"But I'd rather not risk you freezing your rations."

He grabbed the snowgirl's arm and pulled her forward before shoving her into the room, slamming the door behind her; and he turned the dial to 30°C.

It wasn't long before the monster's cries began to sound, and a grin rose on young Gestahl's face as he handed the lollipop to one of the soldiers. "Stick this in the witch's mouth," he ordered. "Report back to me on the reaction. And don't even think about even _licking_ that thing."

"Yes sir," the soldier replied, accepting the candy and taking off down the hall.

"Men, you're dismissed," the Emperor told them. The soldiers gladly heeded that alert, separating through the palace until it was only the Emperor and his son.

A long pause; then the two began to walk back towards the weapons sector of the lab.

"Do you really think they'll ally with us after imprisonment like this?" the Emperor asked.

A sputtering laugh from young Gestahl. "Yeah, right," he admitted. Then; "Well, maybe that succubus if she goes crazy. I couldn't figure out how their minds work from the footage. If it's worse than I thought, we might be able to aim her at other monsters and get _something_ of a result."

Emperor Gestahl turned to him. "Then why would you think we could find a way to use their abilities for ourselves?"

"You said recruitment was too risky," his son insisted. "That's why I didn't stop you from getting the cells ready. But if we have live samples for data, maybe we can find a way to... I dunno, _synthesize_ their effects. It's easier to study prisoners than opponents."

"Perhaps..."

The two arrived at the weapons lab, where a scientist with a clipboard approached it. "Emperor Gestahl! I've been waiting."

"My apologies," the Emperor mused. "How are the Leviath rounds coming?"

"Not well," the scientist admitted, looking over the sheets on his paper. "We can't find any way to maintain chill water in a bullet. Leviath is not on our side."

"What if you didn't use a bullet?"

Emperor and scientist both turned to the young Gestahl, who had a hand on his chin in thought. "What do you mean?" the scientist asked.

"Just used pressurized water," he mused. "Give it the chill to fight yoko, and the force of a bullet. There's no reason to put steel on it."

The scientist thought a moment. "That could work," he mused. "But... that means an entirely different weapon for one type of enemy."

Young Gestahl only raised an eyebrow.

"I'll let the team know," he mused. "Thank you, sir."

"No problem."

+x+x+x+

"Monsters, monsters, monsters..."

The young Gestahl was pacing in his quarters, his mind racing. He had had every honesty when he had told his father that using monsters against monsters was their best option; yet if recruitment was not an option, then how could they put their abilities to use? It was nearly midnight in Vector, yet he remained sleepless as he tried to determine how they could use their new captives to their advantage. Before long his patience ended, and he roared in anger at himself, slamming one hand upon a small workdesk. With his other hand, he grabbed at his hair, as though pulling at the strands would spur his brain to come to the conclusion he would need.

In truth, all that did was pull a few strands from his scalp, prompting a yelp of pain as he glanced at the fibres clenched between his fingers. With a huff, Gestahl slumped into the nearest chair, leaving the hair in his fist.

_Fighting monsters with monsters... Enslavement won't work. They'll just turn on us as soon as the battle opens up. Even if monstrels are enemies to other monsters, they still hate humans. That's out of the question. It's not like we can just **find** monsters who'll help__ us._

His train of thought screeched to a halt, and he glanced at the hairs in his hand.

_...But can we **make**_ them?

+x+x+x+

The door opened to the cell holding the abominable snowgirl, and weakly did she open her eyes. Not twelve hours had passed in this cell conditioned to match a Jidoorian summer; yet she felt victim to an eternity of endless heat. Now she saw him, the man who had forced her into this prison of flames, with a knife in his hand. Had he finally learned to show mercy? Or did their studies simply necessitate flesh, rather than observation?

It mattered not.

With only the faintest of motions, she closed her eyes. "Do it," she forced out, her voice grating with pain.

She would gladly accept death, knowing no fruit would bear from pleading for her life.

The Emperor's son knelt at her side, raising the knife to her neck. "Would you like me to end your life?" he mused, his voice sounding genuinely worried.

"Yes..."

A smirk on the young Gestahl's face; he lashed the blade away from her, the edge cutting loose a lock of hair that fell into his waiting palm, and he quickly got to his feet.

"Unfortunately, that is not an option," he mused, holding the ice-blue strands before him. "Let me tell you, that candy of yours knows how to chill. Took forever to get at that witch after she took a bite."

The snowgirl's gaze fell towards him as he stepped out of the cell, closing the door behind him.

A moment's passage; then the heat in her cell began to intensify further, and her cries echoed across the hall once again.

+x+x+x+

"A _monstrous infusion _experiment?"

Emperor Gestahl had been astonished by the request his son had placed. "We're fighting monsters," the young Gestahl insisted, "and they're killing us before we can become monsters ourselves. If we're gonna gaze into that abyss, we're gonna need to give it a reason to gaze back."

"Genetic samples of monsters," the Emperor mused, "infused into our soldiers?"

"Nobody who does not _want_ to participate _needs_ participate," his son insisted. "Only volunteers. I've only three samples anyways. If the experiment goes wrong, I will accept full responsibility, as well as any and all punishment you deign fit to give me."

Hesitation was blatant on Emperor Gestahl's face; then he sighed in resignation. "Very well," he replied. "When will the procedure be ready?"

"If all goes well," young Gestahl replied, "it should be ready in four days."

"I shall alert the lab to allow your experiment," the Emperor replied. "Good luck."

A nervous snicker. "I'm gonna need it."

+x+x+x+

True to his word, Gestahl had the infusions prepared in four days' time. Three soldiers had gladly volunteered for the project, eager to be part of at least a _chance_ to fight back with some success; and now, with various officials and the Emperor himself observing, and the whole scene being broadcasted to the rest of the Empire's soldiers, young Gestahl directed the scientists to begin before setting a headset on over his ear.

"Soldiers. Commanders. Father." His voice was strong with confidence. "In this winter of war, I thank you all for approving of this project. No, 'project' may not even be the right word. It's a _gamble_, if nothing else. Maybe we can't succeed. Maybe we can't even come close. But damn if we don't let it be remembered that we tried."

The soldiers lay back on the operating tables, and the scientists closed various steel binds over them in as young Gestahl continued. "Here, you can see, we are restraining the soldiers. As we are not entirely certain how the body will instinctively react to this procedure, we need to ensure they do not bring harm to those around them. During the time since Father has approved of this project, we have been carefully studying the samples taken from our captive monsters. If our calculations carry no fallacies, we should have on our hands a means to transfer to our soldiers the genetic substances of abominable snowgirl, succubus, and witch."

Two scientists approached each soldier, one from either side, each holding a syringe filled with a differently coloured fluid. The snowgirl's was an expected icy blue; the succubus' was a hot pink; and the witch's was an ominous gold.

"Men, you may begin."

The scientist on each volunteer's left brought his needle to the soldier's chest, whilst the other brought it to his arm. "We apply the genetic substance from two different points," Gestahl continued, "in hopes of stabilizing the infusion through separate waves - a focused wave, injected from near the heart, and a broader wave, injected at the vein." The scientists pushed in the plungers of their syringes, and each of the soldiers drew taught breaths as the infusions began to enter. The moment the needles were empty, each scientist quickly drew it out, applying brief pressure to the point where the needle entered before then parting again.

A long moment passed.

Then the volunteer who had taken the succubus infusion gave a sudden grunt of shock, thrashing out against his bonds suddenly. The man who had received the snowgirl infusion began to shout in pain, his voice resembling that of a victim to flame. In a shock, young Gestahl realized what mistake he had made - with a thick curse (straight into his microphone, no less), he shot forward, grabbing a glass of cold water from a nearby table. As he approached the work area, he pointed at the succubus-infused soldier and shouted, "Release those restraints, now!"

"But-"

"Do it!" Gestahl shouted. Then he turned to the man who had taken the snowgirl infusion, dripping the water onto his forehead.

He was not expecting it to _freeze on contact._

The man opened his eyes, and the glass in Gestahl's hands began to tremble... and _chill_. In a shock, he set the glass down and leapt away as _blades of ice_ rocketed out of the glass, arcing in every direction and stabbing through one scientist's arm. Another came dangerously close to Gestahl's forehead, and a third rocketed right in front of the man who had received the succubus infusion.

He raised his hand - and every shouted as his fingernails _elongated into daggers_ before he lashed them against the ice, shattering it. He shot off the table, leaping clear across the lab and very near to the bulletproofed glass before turning to face the experiments, holding out his lengthened and sharpened nails like a weapon ready to strike. Now that he was upright, young Gestahl could see that his hair was significantly longer than when things had began.

"Calm down, soldier," Gestahl called. "We don't want to-"

A _crack_ of ice sounded nearby, and he turned and stepped away as the man who had received the snowgirl infusion began to _freeze over_. His short-cut hair arced into dreadlocks of frost as his hands were wrapped in spiked balls of ice, and the frost that had formed on his forehead glazed down over his eyes to form a battle visor of sorts. The ice reached the parts of his body beneath the restraints, and in a few moments the steel was chilled to brittle, shattering as he rose to an upright position

Gestahl glanced between the two infusees, trying to stay on guard. "Men, stand down!" he commanded.

The lights began to flicker, and everyone's gaze rose as the bulbs high above them began to _shatter_, glass by glass, completely at random. Gestahl's gaze went to the man who had received the witch infusion - he had remained mostly silent up until now, but his face was one of empty horror, as though he could see things none else could - or that he _should_ be seeing something that wasn't._  
_

_Nature_, Gestahl realized.

A shower of sparks connected with the man in the ice, and a shout of pain ripped through him as he lashed out, catching a scientist in the nose. Another shower hit the man with the nails, who hunched over in pain - and from his back emerged a pair of _jet black wings_. The witch-infused volunteer began to lash against his bonds, and the nearest scientist made his own decision, deactivating the restraints; the soldier quickly curled into a fetal position as though scared for his life.

The last bulb went out, leaving the lab in complete darkness.

Things were still for a long moment.

Then Gestahl pulled the soldier in the ice to his feet, and as Empire officials began to step into the room, the Emperor's son directed them. "Get this man to the yoko cells," he insisted, "they'll still be a blizzard in there." Pointing to the man with the witch infusion, he added, "Take him to the nearest park and cordon the area off, he needs nature and solitude, and HE needs a freaking drink." That last point was accompanied by a gesture towards the man who had taken the succubus infusion.

This project was an utter failure, and as the officials began to escort the volunteers, all Gestahl could think was _Father is going to kill me.__  
_

* * *

Draco: Huge-ass artistic liberties with the procedure, don't try and lecture me about that one.


	4. Gestahlian Sonata

Draco: UGH. Life is presently hell. This is going to grate to a halt very quickly. On the bright side, I think I've switched my muscle memory from "Ghestal" to "Gestahl", so I shouldn't have any of those problems.

I only realize now that I just gave all three men infusions of monsters that are exclusively FEMALE. Succubus was intended, but the snowgirl and witch ones were just me not thinking.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Gestahlian Sonata**

"What is your verdict?"

Young Gestahl only groaned at his father's question, slumping back in his chair. The two were in an isolated room at the back of the lab as the scientists cleaned up the aftermath of the infusion experiments. Now that he had recovered from the shock of the experiment, he could deliver a clear analysis of the procedure - which still bore his negative opinion.

"I _can't_ say that the experiment was a _failure_," he admitted. "The goal was to get monster power, and we've _done_ that. But we were _so focused_ on _getting_ soldiers with monsters' abilities that I made _so_ many _obvious_ miscalculations. Restraining succubi is _torturous_. Snowgirls find room temperature _blazing_. Witches need nature or they start _panicking_." He shook his head. "I _just_ put our captives through that and forgot about it when the experiment came."

"Surely their discomfort during the procedure does not affect its success," the Emperor insisted.

"It's more than that," young Gestahl continued. "Monsters are _born and raised_ with their abilities and weaknesses. They have the _instincts_ necessary to keep their powers in check. Humans don't have _anything_ like that. We have _no way_ of training them for that, and even if we did, we don't have the _time_."

"The ice and the magic are difficult," Emperor Gestahl admitted, "but surely the man who received the succubus infusion can adapt to claws and wings?"

The door burst open, and both of them rose from their seats to see a soldier standing there. "Sir," he said promptly, "I have good news and bad news to report."

Young Gestahl sighed. "What's the bad news?"

"We took the man who received the succubus infusion to the wine cellar, to get a drink as you ordered," the soldier replied. "We found a soldier from the Theta Sector defensive squadron passed out in a puddle of Chaos Wave, and all the bottles of Demon Eye were empty in the barrel. The top had been torn off with a crowbar-"

"Have him discharged immediately," Emperor Gestahl interrupted.

"That's the good news, sir," the soldier insisted. "The soldier was killed before his infraction could be reported. It needn't ever be said a soldier under your command performed such a deed if you do not desire it."

"I don't think you were done with the bad news," young Gestahl observed.

"No, sir," the soldier admitted. "He was killed by a vine that speared through his heart. It emerged from nowhere, and then disappeared without a trace once his body had gone limp. The man with the infusion looked horrified. I handed him a bottle of Ruby Light and told him to find an isolated room."

"And you have good news to accompany that as well?" the Emperor asked.

The soldier tapped the badge on his uniform - for the emblem of the Gestahlian Empire upon the attire of its soldiers was always outfitted with a video camera, perpetually broadcasting footage to the systems of Vector, so the army would always have intel whether its men survived or not. "First data on the infusion results, sir."

Emperor Gestahl set a hand on his son's shoulder. "You'd best inspect that footage," he murmured. Then, to the soldier; "Thank you. Take the rest of the day off."

+x+x+x+

Weeks passed. The soldiers who had undergone infusions _tried_ to adapt to their newly granted strengths and weaknesses, but to no avail. Young Gestahl's initial observation had been their fresh forms; once the transformations had taken hold, everything was so much _worse_.

The volunteer for the snowgirl infusion could hardly _stand_ being outside the blizzard cells for longer than six minutes, and his hair had become perpetually encased in ice; the only meals he could consume were those that could be eaten at Narshean temperatures (though he did find frozen watermelon to be significantly more appetizing than normal, that was one bright spot on a very _dark_ situation). The succubus-infused soldier was unable to stay in so much as a _room with a closed door_ without panicking, and controlling the claws and wings became more difficult and more painful with every passing day; the vines, which were determined to be illusions given physical form, refused to appear unless he was particularly angered - in which cases he decidedly _did not want them to_ (but his hair was FABULOUS). The man with the witch infusion could hardly step back into Vector without suffering intense mental pain, and any attempts to utilize the power that came with the procedure was difficult at best; magic only came in minor, nearly unnoticeable unnaturalities (tree branches bending towards him as he passed, leaves kicking up in wind that wasn't there, the like).

Each of them had word delivered to the young Gestahl; and each of them bore the same core meaning.

_End it._

The warfront was no better. Battles ended in defeat. Soldiers were lost. Weapons failed to slay their targets. Emperor Gestahl could tell that there was no human army capable of defeating the monsters; the war's autumn was approaching, and fast.

Eventually, it was decided: the Gestahlian Empire would launch one last attack on the monsters' forces in the port city of Albrook, with everything they had. If the attack was successful, they would have back access to the seas; in failure, their role in this war would end.

Young Gestahl was pacing the empty laboratory, restless. It was the day before the army would depart, and he knew as well as any of them did that their chances of success were slim at best and nonexistent at any other value. He had to do _something_ to increase their chances; but _what_?

A spark from nearby prompted him to come to a halt, taking a defensive stance; but the spark died down soon enough, revealing it to be only the confiscated wand of their captive witch. He had taken precautions to ensure their monstrous prisoners were not _slain_ \- little _lethal_ threat was held by the succubus' prison or the witch's cell, but he had needed ensure the temperature of the snowgirl's cell was routinely decreased so as to not let the heat outright _kill_ her. Now, however, the wand caught his eye; slowly, he stepped towards it.

Their attempts to analyze the wand had ended in failure.

The artifact sparked again - and a realization struck the young Gestahl's mind.

"That's it," he said aloud, to no one. "That's why it hasn't been working. Oh, _Feymarch_, **that**'s what we've been missing!"

He grabbed the casting tool from its perch, taking off through the lab. No sooner had he left the room than he collided with one of the Empire's officials, who seemed to be idle himself. Upon recognizing Gestahl, he promptly stood at attention. "Can I help you, sir?"

"As it happens, you can," Gestahl admitted. "I need a convertible, a horse-drawn cart, a freezer truck, a nail file, every functional Leviath weapon we have, and a big black cauldron."

"Is this really the time for whiskey?" the official asked.

Gestahl checked his watch. "Maybe in Gatrea," he admitted, "but I'm talking about the iron."

+x+x+x+

It took some desperate pleas and fancy promises for Emperor Gestahl to agree to his son's request; but ten minutes on foot from Albrook, the three monster-infused soldiers stood at the front of the Gestahlian troops. The convertible was parked perpendicular to the structure; the succubus-empowered soldier was in the back seat with his nails extended, and was currently trying to draw his wings without hurting anyone - himself included. The horses had drawn the cart so that the witch-magic soldier could exit from the back, and the freezer truck was backed up next to it, with the snowgirl-infused soldier inside and the door presently closed.

It was daybreak, and now the Emperor's son stepped forward, beckoning for the men to open the bay doors on the freezer truck.

"Gentlemen. On this day, the Gestahlian Empire takes one final gamble for victory. There you can see the port city of Albrook Occupied by mermaids and slug monsters, as present. If we cannot win this fight, the war's autumn is upon us. If we cannot win this fight, the Gestahlian Empire ends.

"So let us win this fight."

He raised one hand and snapped his fingers, prompting three men to step up from behind the vehicles and hand each of the infusion victims a tool. The nail file was tossed into the back seat of the convertible, and the succubus-infused soldier picked it up and absently began to file his nails; the witch's wand was set upon the edge of the cart, whereupon the witch-infused victim picked it up with a gaze of reverence; and before the freezer truck was piled a collection of Leviath ballistics, prompting the snowgirl-infused soldier to step to the edge of the truck.

"I know that each of you has suffered. I understand that I am to blame. I have it on record that each of you has begged me to slay you, as an act of mercy. Yet even as I try to submit the order, I cannot sentence to death men who have done me no wrong. So today, I provide each of you with a chance. A chance to claim both the glory you deserve, and the death you desire."

Young Gestahl reached for his hip, drawing a small pistol loaded with a single shot.

"You are soldiers, are you not!?"

Then he turned his body, keeping one foot pointed at his victims as he raised the pistol to the city of Albrook and fired. The shot flew through the air and pierced a window in the port city, bringing the monsters within to attention of the men waiting not ten minutes away.

And the man who had fired turned back to his men.

"Your battle is over - all that is left is to fight to your hearts' content. Our goal is these monsters' heads!"

The man with the file raised it above his head like a dagger. "I'm in!"

The man with the wand leapt out of the cart like a child on Halloween. "Same here!"

The man with the ice picked up a Leviath shotgun, strapping the supply to his back. "If I'm going to burn, I'll do it in Abburoth!"

On the horizon, the monsters' forces had begun to mobilize, and the soldiers with not but Feymarch's warriors in their rounds began to ready their weapons.

Young Gestahl raised his hand skyward. "Hell yeah?"

"**_HELL YEAH!_**"

Then he turned to face their opponents, throwing his hand forward. "Hell yeah."

A tear of flesh heralded a scream of pain and pleasure as the wings tore from the succubus soldier's back - knocking out the driver of the convertible - and he took off into the air, flying towards their opponent soldiers. The man with the witch's wand lashed it forward, and the earth beneath his feet propelled him forward like a yoko's fire. The volunteer who was ready to burn fired his weapon once, sending forth a spray of pressurized water with all the force of a bullet; the moment the spray had parted, it _froze_, forming a series of sharpened blades, and he prepared to charge forward to lead the soldiers of the Gestahlian army.

Young Gestahl grinned as his father approached him. "Good Bahamut, I hope this works," the Emperor mused.

"I swear to you, Father," his son insisted, "this will not be the end of your Empire."

A moment of silence.

"What plans have you if this battle succeeds?" Emperor Gestahl asked.

The question caused young Gestahl to pause and think. "I'd rather not take the risks with hair samples again," he mused.

A long moment of quiet.

"But perhaps... we could try it with blood?"

* * *

Draco: Shorter than it ought be, but I _really_ don't feel like writing a war sequence. And with this, my initial burst has ended.


	5. Toxic

Draco: Quick warning, I was in a fairly dark mood and had recently watched a couple recent X-Men movies when I began to write this. I cannot guarantee it will be of pleasant disposition.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Toxic**

"Men, you may begin."

After the (very successful) battle at Albrook, Gestahlian soldiers were once again willing to take part in the monstrous infusion experiments. Though the initial three subjects had been killed in the battle, it was only after the bulk of the enemy force had first been struck down; this left the heat of Ifrit, the chill of Shiva, and the bolts of Ramuh to finish off the enemy forces.

Most of their foes were slain, left to time's ravages; but a single slug monster and a single mermaid had been captured for the young Gestahl's experiments, imprisoned in his custom cages, and a single specimen was enough.

Hoping for a different result with different samples, the Emperor's son had decided to use blood infusions for this experiment. Deducing that the dual-wave "stabilization" technique was the main cause for the excessive sensitivity for their previous test subjects, they decided with single-dose infusions, injected at the veins. Young Gestahl decided not to make a presentation of the procedure this time, although that did not stop the Emperor and a small handful of officials from observing the infusions.

Having determined slug monster and mermaid to be too _inhuman_ in form for soldiers to adapt to, they stuck with their initial three monstrous subjects; and now, Gestahl stood before the volunteers, watching as the blood samples were injected into their soldiers.

A long moment of silence.

Then the man with the succubus and witch infusions shot upright, giving nearly-synchronized gasps of horror. Gestahl turned to them, warily, as the men began to writhe in place. _Oh,_ _damn it,_ his mind rambled,_ blood was a bad idea, wasn't it?_

Ice coated one man's hair as his hands were wrapped in icy claws.

Wings tore out of the other's back as his fingernails sharpened.

_Yeah, it was,_ Gestahl realized. "Take cover!" he barked to the scientists.

"No!" one of the men shouted. As Gestahl turned, he forced, "I got this!"

A pause; then Gestahl's eyes went wide as the ice _melted_, and the wings began to _withdraw_.

"Holy shit," one of the scientists exclaimed.

The man who had been in the ice set a hand on his forehead. "Brain freeze."

"Damn, that hurts," murmured the other, reaching for his back. "But, yeah, I think this is manageable."

Gestahl grinned at the results. He reached one hand for a glass of water, setting it in front of the snowgirl-infused soldier. "Take this to the cold rooms, see what you can do with it," he mused. Turning to the succubus-infused volunteer, he added, "You head to our designated park and start trying those things out." The two men took off towards their given destinations, and he quickly dismissed the scientists, waiting until the room was empty.

Then he faced the last test subject, the man who had received the witch infusion, and stepped towards him. The man had a hand to his head, realizing that nothing was breaking, he rose to an upright position, glancing around until he laid eyes on Gestahl.

"How do you feel?" Gestahl asked.

The man glanced down. "I have a weird urge to play cards," he mused.

"No... weird sense of pain?"

"Nothing."

Gestahl handed him the witch's wand. "How about now?"

The man held it in his hand for a moment; then he shook his head. "Still nothing."

This prompted a sigh from Gestahl, his shoulders slumping as he took the wand back. "I was afraid of this. You head to the gambler's room. Inform me if you feel any different experiences from normal... but you should be fine."

The soldier left.

The Emperor stepped inside in his place.

"What are the results?" he asked.

"The snowgirl and succubus infusions seem to have worked," young Gestahl replied. "In fact, I'm not _entirely_ sure the former needed to go to the cold rooms. I just didn't want him panicking if it was a delayed thing like the last ones. However, the witch is not a viable option for blood infusions."

Emperor Gestahl blinked. "What do you mean?"

His son shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. "He didn't have any reaction to this place, and the wand didn't do anything for him. I should have known. Witches don't run on the same rules as other monsters do."

"Excuse me?" the Emperor asked.

"Witches aren't... well... they're not really _monsters_," young Gestahl explained. "They're just... _not_ _human_." At his father's confused expression, he continued; "They're sort of halfways. Beings of the borderline between man and beast. We class them with monsters because monsters fight on the same team, but they don't have the same _essence_ of monster that most others do."_  
_

"Then... how do you explain the previous infusion process working?" Emperor Gestahl asked.

"Hair is the most magical part of a witch," was the response. "I've seen some footage where witches were using their hair like... I dunno, whips or something. Witch hair is linked directly to their brain, which is where the core concept for most _on-command_ magic originates. But the rest of their bodies aren't _monstrous_. That's why this infusion failed."

Young Gestahl turned away. "The men were alright. If they're still in stable condition by tomorrow, I'd like to try again. How many volunteers do we have ready?"

+x+x+x+

Experiments continued to be successful. Though the first couple rounds repeated witch infusions, these resulted in no empowerment (although they each reported slight behavioural differences, it was nothing of any offensive use). The succubus and snowgirl infusions, however, continued to not only succeed with minimal difficulties, but _exceed_ expectations. The ice-infused men did not require any need to reside in the chilled zones of the palace (though they found the blizzard cells more comfortable); ice was formed with much more _variety_, and with much greater _ease._ The succubus-infused soldiers felt no pain from containment, and their transformations were of minimal pain - a _vast_ improvement over the previous attempt.

Their soldiers bore all the monsters' strengths, and none of their weaknesses.

Their next strike was on Tzen, where the main body of the succubus army waited. The fight was won with _immense_ ease - in part due to the fact that their enemies were not expecting _monstrous_ opponents, and in part due to the fact that their seductive abilities didn't _work_ on half of their strongest fighters. The snowgirls of Tzen fared no better; both armies were forced to retreat once the battle got going.

With their home continent relinquished from monstrous forces, the Gestahlian Empire was free to move out and continue to strike. The war continued in shocking victory, prisoners taken every time they found a new variety of opponent. The werewolves in Jidoor, the thunder beasts in Kohlingen, South Figaro's trolls and crow tengu - the war was turning in humanity's favour. With different infusions of soldier for each new capture, even the yoko of Narshe fell with relative ease - though a constant torrent of icewater was necessary to keep them imprisoned, they managed it (with help from their snow-fairy soldiers, of course).

Then they launched an attack on Doma.

And that was when things began to fall apart.

+x+x+x+

How does one fight against a foe who needs not even move to strike?

As soldiers both infused and armed approached the castle of Doma, their attack was seen coming from the moment it began. The men and women within, an army of both witches and sorcerers, were not on any visible patrol; indeed, most of their soldiers were inside, playing roulette and drinking Black Cauldron whiskey - including their _commander_.

The only alert they had was a single woman in the corner, gazing into a small pool of water as though bored. Yet that was all they needed; for at the instant the Gestahlian soldiers began to move out, her gaze rose to the commander who sat nearby. "Sir," she called, "we have enemy forces approaching."

"Big deal," the commander shrugged, not even turning her way. "Deploy the defenses."

The diviner lowered her gaze to her pool again; then her eyes went wide, and she looked up to face him again. "Sir," she warned, "it's the empire 'Gestahl'."

The commander turned to her suddenly. "You mean... _Gestahl_ Gestahl?"

A nod.

"Shit," he murmured, turning away; then he got to his feet, his glass forgotten in his hand, and started calling the soldiers to arms.

+x+x+x+

The Imperial troops were rather impressed to find that the Castle of Doma was _very_ heavily fortified - despite the lack of vanguard forces on their way in, the stone walls seemed to be impenetrable, and attempts for the succubus-infused troops to fly over their walls were met with winds that knocked them earthward, as though Bahamut was flying on the other side.

The doors opened, and a lone man stepped out, with a long robe decorated in golden sigils. The door closed behind him, and he glanced over the men.

"You must be Gestahlian troops," he mused.

The soldiers snickered, exchanging amused glances as their commander, a man named Piette, stepped forward. "Took the yoko at Narshe longer than that," he mused. "Of course, they covered up _what they were_ a little better." Beckoning at the robe, he mused, "Not exactly disguise material, is it?"

"Who said anything about a disguise?" the sorcerer mused. "I'm not gonna hide from you."

Piette shook his head. "No, they weren't _hiding_," he replied. "They were trying to catch us off-guard. It worked the first time."

He raised his weapon.

"You don't have that advantage."

The trigger was pulled.

The sorcerer was lit from below by a blazing sigil, and the doors slammed closed behind him as the bullet tore through his chest. The man only lifted his mouth into a grim smirk as the life began to drain from his body - and into the arcane runes below him - and Piette had only time to realize _what_ that glow was going to do before it _exploded_, consuming him and the nearest five soldiers in murderous blue hellfire.

The doors opened again, and a legion of witches and sorcerers poured out as the Gestahlian troops began to attack.

+x+x+x+

"What the hell do you _mean_ it went _poorly?_"

Young Gestahl's blazing rage was a sharp contrast to his father's expression of tranquil fury as the report came in over the video feed from the soldier before him - one of six men who had survived the attack on Doma. _"All our infusees were slain in battle,"_ the soldier insisted. _"Most of our armed troops, as well. We have, like, one of each clip and three Leviath arms left. The rest of the weapony was spent or destroyed."_

"Son of a _bitch,_" the Emperor's son muttered. "How may prisoners?"

_"None,"_ the soldier replied. _"Every time we thought we could capture one, they would use their life energy to fuel their magic. Some of them were summoning things, with it, even. All we have is corpses without **any** energy, and papers covered in magic symbols."_

"Ba-ha-mut..." young Gestahl groaned. A few moments passed before he turned to his father. "I'm gonna go speak with the scientists," he mused, stepping out of the room. "Make sure they keep those papers." The Emperor nodded, and as he left young Gestahl could hear his father issuing the command. They would send an airship to Doma to supply enough troops to guard the castle; the men who brought the airship back could bring the cargo back.

As though on cue, one of the scientsts approached him as he started towards the laboratory. "Sir," he mused, matching his pace to the young Gestahl's, "we have the test results from the new Bahamut rounds you requested." He held out the clipboard. "Everything seems to be in working order."

"Let me see that," Gestahl mused, taking the clipboard without his pace faltering.

"We'll still need a field round in order to determine how effective they'll be against monstrous forces," the scientist mused, "but other than that-"

He was cut off when the Emperor's son thrust the clipboard in his face. "This will do," he said firmly. "Get the lab ready for infusions, and find as many volunteers as we have. We move out for Mobliz in a week, and the spells in Doma took down every infused soldier we had. I want an army each of yoko, thunder beasts, werewolves, trolls, and tengu infused by tomorrow, and all of them armed with enough Bahamut rounds to make Deathgaze fall before he can flee by the time we move out."

The scientist was shocked at Gestahl's orders. As he started to take off, the scientist tried to dissuade him. "Sir, we've taken the blood for one, _maybe_ two infusions, every day to make sure they don't die of blood loss before we finish this war. But they're _mortal beings._ They don't _have_ enough blood to fuel an _army_ **each**."

"Then take what blood they have left," Gestahl insisted, his voice cold. "And have a legion of each by tomorrow. I'm not going to let this war fall to autumn when we are on the edge of spring."

He turned away, leaving the scientist in the hallway; after a moment, the man took off towards the lab to inform the men there.

* * *

Draco: Another short one, but things get serious next round.


	6. A Tranquil Rest

Draco: **NEW EDIT:** This chapter received a retitling. The original topside author's comment had to do with the original title. Thus, unambiguous change. **END NEW EDIT**

Characters (bar three), weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters (and three characters) © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**A Tranquil Rest**

A week after the siege of Doma, the Gestahlian Empire had an airship flying straight for Mobliz. Every soldier inside had received monstrous infusions - yoko, thunder beasts, trolls, werewolves, and crow tengu - and everyone was armed with a machine gun loaded with Bahamut rounds, as well as a handgun with like ammunition. Young Gestahl was on board as well; though the Emperor waited at the Imperial Palace, his son was determined to see this fight to its end _himself_.

"Alright," he said to the men. "You're going to drop into the Veldt. On foot, you should be six minutes away from Mobliz, tops. Withhold all speed until the opposition begins to retaliate. I'm going to be honest with you - we have no idea what's in there. We have no idea what they can do. But _damn_ it, we are not going to let them take us down. That's why you bear Bahamut. We will not lose this war. Am I clear?"

Every man on board saluted at once. "Yes, sir!"

Gestahl nodded. "Then let's take these sons of bitches down."

He slammed his fist into the release for the bay doors, and the men turned, leaping out of the ship as a synchronized unit. The troll-infused soldiers leapt first, diving straight for the plains of the Veldt; yet they were not the first to strike earth, despite the weight in their forms. No sooner had their volted troops left the airship than their bodies were turned to lightning, and they hit the earth as bolts from a cloudless sky, monstrous by the time they had physical form again. Upon nearing that earthen surface, each of the mountain soldiers arced into a cannonball, letting their transformations surge out; by the time they hit the ground, they were fully formed - and the _Veldt_ came off worse for it.

The blazing troops leapt out behind the thunder beasts, flames lashing out to form their tails as they free-fell towards the earth; upon nearing the plain, infernos ripped up around them to slow their falls as they touched down on the earth. Their night and raven soldiers leapt out in alternating formation, their transformations beginning from the moment they dove - each tengu infusee lowering his legs for a werewolf volunteer to cling to - and their falls slowly transformed into glides as they landed at the front of ready forces.

Upon ensuring everyone was present, the forces of the Gestahlian Empire began to march on the town of Mobliz.

+x+x+x+

A soldier wandering the - now nearly empty - prison halls of the Imperial Palace found himself bored. Without knowing what monsters resided at the Veldt town, they couldn't risk soldiers without the monstrous infusions - only their five legions had taken off to the Veldt, and the soldier who normally bore Feymarch's arms now were left to guard Vector.

A clatter from a cell nearby caused him to turn in confusion. Checking the number on the door, he realized this was the witch cells - full artificial imprisonment designed to isolate them from nature. Their only witch prisoner was the little girl, one of their first captures. Deciding she must have become bored, he only turned away and started to walk again.

The same rattle against the door, sharper this time.

The soldier turned, reaching for his belt - where a revolver loaded with six Bahamut rounds waited. Disturbance again, this time almost like something slamming against it; the soldier promptly stepped towards the door, preparing his weapon to fire should the door show the slightest falter.

Something tore through the door and struck him in the forehead.

It was a tarot card - _XX Judgement_.

Then the door burst from its hinges, and the soldier had not time to yell before it crushed him against the wall, red staining the wall around the edges.

Out of the cell emerged the witch; a deck of tarot cards in one hand, and the snowgirl's coolant lollipop in the other.

"_Where_ is my **god**_ damn **wand?**_"

An siren blared over her head, and she turned to see that her door had been linked to an alarm. An irritable growl passed through her lips as she stormed down the halls. _First things first. I've got to free the others... if there _**_are_**_ still any others._ A disturbing number of empty presences - empty _monstrous_ presences - had passed her cell, and now she feared for her allies.

With swift movements, she headed further down the cells, looking for any others. It wasn't long before she came across a series of cells lined with dials - one of them was turned nearly as high as it could, and from within she could hear a series of pained whimpers.

"There she is! That witch!"

The witch in question turned towards the sound of the voice to see a series of soldiers rounding the corner. Quickly, she turned the dial as low as it would go before diving into the nearest empty cell to avoid the men's shots. Slowly, the men stepped forward, bracing their revolvers in hand, ready to fire at a moment's notice - but with their attention on the witch, they failed to notice door to the lone occupied cell slowly wrapping with the faintest layers of frost.

A card flew out of the room.

The men fired.

And the door _shattered_, fragments of brittle steel striking their opponents unconscious.

The cell was filled with frosty mist as the snowgirl stumbled out, her body covered in cold sweat. The witch stepped out of the empty cell, and the two monsters stood facing each other for a long moment; then the witch smirked, turning the coolant-candy in hand and holding it out to her.

"Mizore."

"Yukari."

The snow fairy accepted the candy, setting it into her mouth - and in a moment her hair was streaked with ice as frozen claws formed around her hands. "Where's Kurumu?" she asked. "You should have passed her cell on the way here."

"I didn't see her," Yukari insisted. "The windows for the succubus cells were all blacked out. I'd just waste time if I went through each one."

Mizore nodded. "Alright. They'll have your wand in the lab. On our way in, wasn't it?" Yukari nodded. "You go get that. I'll free Kurumu. Don't think anyone else will still be alive, but keep an eye out for any occupied cells."

"You got it."

The two took off down the hall, Mizore breaking off halfway through the succubus cells. Yukari didn't cease her dash - she knew full well what kind of imprisonment these Gestahlians would have concocted for a succubus and was not entirely eager to see it - and instead only kept running until she arrived at the laboratory. A lone scientist was there, but she managed to silence him by grabbing the nearest solid object and slamming it against his head. She found her wand on a back table and picked it up, relieved to have _her casting tool_ back at last; a witch without a magic object is helpless, and she had only been fortunate that Mizore's candy had used arcana for its chill.

Meanwhile, Mizore was presently fighting through the displeasure of Kurumu's imprisonment. Mythril cable bound the succubus' arms and legs into a vulnerable _X_ formation, and arced around her stomach and chest as well; her skin was already bruised from her trying to fight it. Her eyes were blinded; her ears were covered; her mouth was gagged. Only after resisting the urge to be very sick was Mizore able to reach forward, her claws of ice cutting through the earmuffs that silenced the world around her.

Kurumu began to thrash against her binds; yet only two words from Mizore silenced her.

"_It's me._"

The cold breath on her ear brought her movements to a halt; quickly, the snow fairy clipped the gag and let it fall, and the succubus sucked in a starved breath before speaking.

"Mizore?"

"Yes," Mizore insisted. "Hold still, I need to get your bonds free." She pulled the candy from her mouth and set the stick between Kurumu's lips, whispering, "Hold this and don't touch flavour." Kurumu understood immediately, her teeth grasping the stick, and Mizore let her claws melt as she got to work.

Sweat quickly broke out on her face, and she set her hands against her forehead to gather the moisture before setting them against Kurumu's leg binds. A moment passed briefly; then the cables began to chill, causing Kurumu to gasp - though she managed to keep her teeth on the coolant. A few moments; then ice wrapped her hands in claws as she shattered the now-brittle mythril, causing it to fall in pieces and allowing Kurumu's legs to touch the floor. She repeated the process with the wraps on the succubus' arms, and then the wraps around her chest and stomach; once she was free, the snow fairy then took the candy from Kurumu's teeth and reached for the blindfold.

"No, don't," Kurumu insisted. "I need to do this myself."

Mizore pulled her hand away, setting the candy against her tongue and letting it chill her again.

Kurumu's breath was shaky as she reached for the wrap around her eyes; after a moment, she managed to loosen the knot enough to slip the cloth off her head, her eyes flickering open after being unused for how long now. Her vision was blurry at first; when Mizore's face was clear, she couldn't help but step forward and put her arms around the snow fairy, relieved.

There was a brief moment of suffocation shortly before Yukari came back to find them.

+x+x+x+

"Enemy troops marching toward us on the Veldt."

The monsters in Mobliz were men and women in blood red business suits. At the patrol's warning, their leader - a woman with hair like a snow fairy - made her way to the roof he stood upon, looking out towards their opponents.

"Those can't be enemy troops," she insisted, turning back to the patrol. "I see mountain trolls and werewolves."

"They bear the emblem of the Gestahlian Empire," the patrol insisted, handing her a pair of binoculars.

The leader grabbed the scope angrily, peering towards the marching soldiers - and indeed they did bear the emblem in question. She lowered the pair curiously, handing them back to their owners. _Betrayers? No... that can't be. They would never..._

A pause; then her eyes slipped closed, and she bowed her head as her hair began to move in a wind that was not there.

A shocked yelp escaped her lips, and her eyes shot open as she stepped back.

"Those are ghouls," she muttered. "The empire Gestahl made Odin-damned ghouls!" Turning to the patrol, she shouted, "Sound the alarm and have every soldier ready to fight! And get someone to distract them until we get out there!"

"Yes, ma'am," the patrol replied, turning back to the marching foes as she leapt off the roof. He leaned out and tapped a box dangling on the rim of the roof, prompting a bat to fly out; with but a few words, it took off towards the main concentration of soldiers, and the patrol quickly leapt off the roof, taking off out of town and flexing his body to make sure nothing had gone stiff that he needed.

The Imperial soldiers saw the man walk out of Mobliz and exchanged glances; then one of the tengu troops dashed ahead of the crew, stepping towards the lone man. "Hey there!" he called, his voice steeped in false friendliness. "How's things going around-"

The man lashed out with a roundhouse kick, sending the soldier _flying back about twenty paces._

A resounding _crack_ echoed beneath the soldier's scream; the troops exchanged glances before drawing their machine guns, loaded with Bahamut clips. A werewolf soldier rushed forward, appearing ten paces away from their opponent. "Well then," he reprimanded, "you're not exactly in a frien-"

A knifehand swing prompted the Imperial to move, retreating ten paces away again. "Woah there," he insisted. "You don't need to be so vi-"

The monster thrust out an open palm, prompting the soldier to arc around and land behind him, drawing his revolver. "Fine then," he insisted, "no banter."

He drew the hammer on his weapon.

The opponent kicked back.

The soldier went around - and landed with his neck _in his foe's grasp_.

A moment's pause; then the patrol _crushed_ the soldier's neck _in one hand._

The nearest yoko soldier turned to the men. "Fire."

Each of the men opened fire on their opponent, who threw the werewolf ghoul at the shots. The moment each bullet connected, the flesh around the impact _waved out_, like an impact on water - in a few moments, the soldier was nonexistent, and the Mobliz patrol had to kick the fallen tengu soldier into the firestream order to block the next set of shots.

"So that's what the new ones do," he mused.

Then he set one fist into his palm, and each _crack_ of his knuckles sent power flaring out around him.

+x+x+x+

A dining hall resided immediately behind the Imperial Throne room. Two soldiers attempted to bar their way, but Kurumu only sliced them with her claws, leaving them to fall to the ground - wounded, but not dead. Mizore quickly turned their spilled blood into binds against the ground, and Yukari struck them in the head with her wand to knock them out for good measure.

"No magic?" Kurumu asked.

"Can't do much in a city like this," Yukari admitted. "Not enough spirits. All I can really manage is my tarot cards."

Mizore only rolled her eyes, wrapping her hands in ice again. The throne room was empty, but upon seeing the door to the throne room, the three of them only struck it down. Emperor Gestahl was sitting at one end of the table, with a wineglass to his lips; upon seeing the three girls, he nearly sprayed his drink all over the table - though he managed to stop himself with a hand to his lips. Quickly, he set his glass upon the table and grabbed the bottle, checking the label; then he swallowed hard, facing the girls again.

"Is this a misstep in the cell design?" the Emperor asked of the monsters. "Or simply a failure to disarm?"

Kurumu spread her wings, Mizore held out a hand wrapped in ice, and Yukari threw her deck of tarot cards into the air. The wine left in Gestahl's glass froze, arcing into a series of icy blades that aimed at various vital organs; with a wave of her wand, Yukari's cards flew forward, pinning him to his chair without a scratch; and Kurumu quickly flew forward, dragging his chair away from the table.

"That was some really good wine," Gestahl protested.

The other girls dashed past the table as Kurumu snapped her fingers - with some difficulty, given her claws. Vines tore out of the floor and roof, binding Gestahl in a vulnerable _X_ position as Mizore raised her ice claws to his neck and Yukari levitated her cards around his head.

"You're going to get us out of here," the snow fairy insisted. "Safely."

Gestahl closed his eyes, a light snicker passing through his lips. "Highly doubtful."

The door burst open, and the girls circled the Emperor, keeping him between them and the legion of soldiers that burst through the door, revolvers raised.

"You want to so much as _touch_ us?" Kurumu threatened. "You go through him first!"

A moment's passage; then the soldiers loosed a volley of weak laughs, exchanging half-hearted gazes.

Then they all raised their revolvers again.

Kurumu's bravado vanished.

"My son told you, did he not?" the Emperor asked. "There is no human soldier in this world who is not willing to die if it means taking a monster with him."

The men stepped forward.

"Permission to open fire, my liege."

His voice was heavy, but set; Gestahl only bowed his head, his eyes closed.

"Permission granted."

+x+x+x+

"This is _not good_."

Young Gestahl was watching the battle at Mobliz from the airship. "We're losing troops. We're losing _w__erewolves_ and _yoko_. How the _hell_ are we _losing troops_? What the _hell_ **are** these guys?"

"Sir," the pilot called, turning Gestahl's attention. "We have an alert from Vector."

Irritated, Gestahl stormed up to the cockpit, slamming his hand to activate the video feed. "Someone better be dying," he threatened.

He regretted his words immediately - the soldier on the monitor had his hands closed behind his back, and his helmet was removed from his head.

"It's... not in progress... my liege."

The way he addressed young Gestahl made it _pointedly_ clear who - his father had been slain, and now _he_ was in charge of the Gestahlian Empire.

Gestahl slumped into the copilot's seat. "No..."

A crackle over the radio sounded, and Gestahl's attention turned to the speaker as a woman's voice sounded; _"Gestahlian Imperial flight vessel, respond."_

"Dismissed, soldier," Gestahl said to the monitor, shutting down the video feed; then he set his hand upon the transmitter. "This is Emperor Gestahl. Who are you?"

The response came before too long._ "I am the leader of the monsters your forces are - or, rather, **were** fighting. Your troops have fallen. We have exactly one man of each variety who is still alive. They are imprisoned. If you intend to live to see this war end, land your vessel and speak with me face to face."_

A growl passed through Gestahl's lips; then he directed the pilot to earth. "We'll be thirty-six paces from Mobliz," he told the woman. "I don't trust myself not to wreck anything and still come any closer. Meet me there, alone. Or with the prisoners you have taken. The only man with me is my pilot."

+x+x+x+

The woman who waited for them was in what appeared to be a bright red _bathrobe_ when they landed - and she was alone.

"You're not going to tell me I _woke you up_ with my attack, are you?" Gestahl demanded.

The woman set a hand on her forehead. "Ah... Maybe a little bit?"

"It was _noon_ when my soldiers dove from our ship," Gestahl stated firmly.

"And you attack us with werewolves?" his opponent asked.

Gestahl grinned; he would allow himself this pride. "Infusees," he replied. "Monstrous blood, injected into soldiers willing to turn the tide of war."

The monster woman shook her head. "You make ghouls of your men?"

"We needed to give the abyss a reason to gaze back," Gestahl replied. "What do you want."

"I understand that this war between mankind and monsterdom was... unprovoked," the woman insisted. "My kind can usually dissuade monsters from beginning such struggles, but by the time we were aware of this war all we could do was defend ourselves. But you have slain those monsters who were willing to fight. Witches. Sorcerers. Snow fairies. Succubi. Slug monsters. Mermaids. Yoko. Trolls. Tengu. These races fought in this war, not because they as a kind desired to, but because the actions of few dragged them into it. But you have dissuaded them, if they still live. You were not aware of our desire to _not. Fight._ You attacked Mobliz under the reasonable assumption that monsterdom as a whole partook in this war. From this, we take no offense."

Gestahl bowed his head kindly. "I am pleased to find my opposition is reasonable enough to understand."

The woman's mouth twitched upward. "And as such, I am willing to offer you a deal," she replied. "You have slain but a small portion of each race that has participated in this war. But if word emerges that _my_ kind engaged so willingly in battle, the war will begin anew - a war that I am certain you have no hope of winning. As it stands, we have no desire to make such engagements. So I offer you this.

"Agree to end this war. Here and now. You will return the lands you have conquered to their inhabitants of mankind, and monsterdom will fade. If we so much as remain _in this world_, you have my word that we will do so covertly. Peacefully. This war will not be repeated."

Gestahl lowered his gaze to the Veldt's earth.

"If you do not agree," the woman replied, "then we will retaliate. I will slay you here and now. Monsters will once again war with humans - and this time, you will have no blood to aid your conquest."

A long moment's pause.

"I have two questions for you," Gestahl said firmly, "and only a fool's error on your behalf would make their answer affect mine."

The woman nodded. "Ask away."

"Earlier," Gestahl prompted, "you referred to my infused soldiers as 'ghouls'. What do you mean by that?"

"The act of injecting humans with blood of monsters is hardly a fresh field, Emperor," the woman replied, "though I believe you are the first human to instigate it without a willing monstrous partner. My kind is the more frequent race to instigate it. It takes more than one attempt, however - and a human soul relinquishes its hold when our blood takes root. We refer to these soulless abominations as ghouls; eventually, the term spread to refer to any human injected with monstrous blood."

Gestahl lowered his head. "I see. And... what of the surviving soldiers you mentioned you had imprisoned?"

At this point, the woman averted her gaze, looking uncomfortable. "Are you aware yoko are capable of self-destruction?" she murmured. "It took your survivors and several of my finest men with it."

"This is no fault of yours," Gestahl stated, "and I understand that."

The woman turned to face him again. "Do you accept my offer of ceasefire?" she asked.

Gestahl bowed his head. "I do."

At this point, his opposition smirked - and Gestahl was astonished to see a _fang_ poke over her lower lip. "I am quite pleased to hear your wisdom, Emepror Gestahl."

"You're a _Nosferatu_," Gestahl realized, his gaze focused on the fang.

The woman reached for her mouth, realizing the ivory was exposed. "Er... yeah."

"Asura _damn it_..."

* * *

Draco: I _can't_ be the only one who's tried doing a Hannibal Chau "Where is my goddamn χ" quote, but I _dare_ you to picture Yukari Sendo using that line and not crack up. Manga _or_ anime. I won't judge. Much._  
_

Aiya... those three were just supposed to be a cameo in chapters 2 and 3, but then I wanted to do a breakout scene and was having trouble doing namelessness so I just said "Screw it" and picked up the news club rejectees.

This may seem kind of awkward next chapter, but this is the _last_ of the "prequel-to-the-prequel" chapters. Next round we get into something a little more gamey.

Also, no, I'm not in burst mode again. The top quarter of this was originally going to be the bottom half of Chapter 5 before I realized it flowed better this way.


	7. Following Forgotten

Draco: Long time, VI-ers.

Hey, just a heads-up, I've been doing K+C descriptions for FF character designs off Amano's artwork. It normally matches up, and I think I ignored for this one, but I'm not a hundred percent sure you can tell who this is if you're comparing sprites.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Following Forgotten**

Time passed.

Memories of the war between humans and monsters misted, faded, until such time that tomes of history which bore that record were considered tomes of myth. The men who had fought in that war lived at peace, and died at peace. True to the vampires' word, monsters vanished from the world; indeed, if any monsters survived, they were monsters of silence who showed not their true forms.

And the young Gestahl who had taken his father's throne aged, until his hair was white as Narshe's snow, and his eyes were heavy with undying memories of the war between mankind and monsterdom, the losses and the gains that had transpired.

Eventually, that despair turned to ambition - and despite his age, he found the strength to act on it.

+x+x+x+

"Hey, easy, easy!"

About a dozen men had their weapons levelled on a rather wiry figure in black garments, adorned with small, barely-there blue patterns. A small tuft of light brown hair jut out over one eyebrow from an otherwise all-concealing blue bandanna, and at his belt was hooked a small knife, which clattered against the rock he was cornered against.

The weapons in question were _rifles_, and there were few who would blame him for backing away.

"What the hell are you doing in our way, thief?" one of the gunmen barked.

"I'm no thief!" was the retaliation. Resting one hand on his knife's handle, he asked, "And where did you even get that accusation? I don't recall meeting any of you."

"We've been notified to capture anyone of sufficient notoriety," another man replied. "You're wanted for the theft of several crystal relics from the city of Jidoor."

The not-thief raised an eyebrow. "Crystal relics?" he mused. "The only thing I've ever stolen was a heart."

One gunman stepped forward, holding his rifle at arm's length - which meant the cornered one was arm's length away from the barrel. "So you admit stealing the Shiva Heart crystal relic?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" the accused protested. "I don't think I've even been to Jidoor."

"Enough of your lies, thief!" a fourth man snapped.

An irritable groan emerged from the 'thief'. "For the love of-"

He stepped forward and lashed out into a kick, knocking the barrel up with enough suddenness that the man didn't have time to move; the trigger was pulled, blasting a pebble above. That pebble was keeping a wooden platform at the right angle, and the shot caused it to move away, tipping the wood. Upon the wood was a massive boulder, the weight of which caused the surface to slide; and the accused quickly leapt aside, too fast for the men to fire, as the boulder tumbled and crushed eleven men most unceremoniously.

The last of them still had his rifle in hand, and he looked from side to side, trying to figure out where the thief had suddenly disappeared to - and was most concerned to see his hand close on the barrel from arm's length to one side.

"I'm a treasure hunter."

He yanked the rifle out of the man's hands, then thrust it into his nose with enough force to knock him to the ground.

A smirk rose on his face as he whirled the rifle in hand, firing the weapon into the air as he looked over the man's uniform. "No insignia," he mused curiously. "I don't _think_ they're imperial... but at the same time..."

_We won't stop until we say we're done...  
We'll re-_

The music was abruptly cut off when the treasure hunter drew out his phone and flicked it open, raising it to one ear. "Lock, stock, and barrel."

_"Do you **have** to answer the phone like that?"_ a gruff voice protested.

"Hey, it keeps things vague," the hunter mused. "Anyone who doesn't know me doesn't know who's there."

A sigh. _"Don't you set different ringtones for different numbers?"_

"That's not gonna help much," he admitted. "What if you get mugged?"

_"Come on, Locke. The only one around here with the guts to mug me is you, and your loyalty gets in the way."_

Locke Cole rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Arvis. I'm on my way to Narshe," he informed, knowing the question was coming. "Got sidetracked by a couple guys with guns. Do Imperials wear their sigils these days?"

_"Not with their shock troops,"_ Arvis informed him. _"Want to keep things hidden if they run into something unfavourable."_

"Lovely," Locke groaned, setting the rifle down so he could lean on it. "I think I just took down their point squad. I'll be there in half an hour. Make sure everyone is-"

He cut himself off with a minor yelp as the weapon was yanked out from under him. The soldier was not as unconscious as he had thought, and now the rifle was levelled on Locke's torso.

"I'm gonna put you on hold," Locke mused, lowering the phone at his side.

"You're not picking that up, thief," the soldier snapped. "You're gonna hit end. Then I'm gonna pull this trigger and send you _right_ after my friends. You criminal, insane mother-"

He was cut off when something collided with his head and _razed flame over him_.

Locke gave a shout that could be heard in Zozo as the man's body went limp. The inferno tore through his skull with all haste, and he hadn't the time to scream before it tore into his vital organs.

His corpse fell to the ground.

The treasure hunter glanced at the weapon at his feet, then at the sky he had tired at.

_"Locke? Locke! What happened?!"_

Slowly, shakily, Locke raised the phone to his ear again. "Don't shoot Imperial guns at the sky."

Then he lowered it at his side and flicked it shut.

"Holy _shit_ I don't want to think about how close that was."

+x+x+x+

"Completely eliminated?"

The reporting soldier nodded. "Yes, sir. All the surveillance feeds were cut out. One of them survived longer than the others, but from what we got it was taken out by our own weapons."

Emperor Gestahl seethed angrily. This was their fifth attempt at sending shock troops to Narshe, but all of them had been eliminated before arrival. "Very well," he insisted. "Enough subtlety. Send in a full attack force. I want to know exactly what they're hiding in those mines. Understood?"

"Yes sir," the soldier confirmed, turning on his heel and starting towards the door.

After the briefest of moments, Gesthal turned in his throne, to lean across the arms in a fashion he had often fantasized about as a boy. "Cadet."

The man came to a stop with his hand on the knob, turning back to the Emperor. "Yes, sir?"

Gestahl glanced at the soldier from the corner of his eye, his lids drooping out of sheerest boredom.

"Send _her_, on point."

It was at this moment the cadet realized exactly _how badly_ Gestahl wanted his prize from Narshe, and slowly turned away. "Yes, sir," he assured the Emperor, and closed the door behind him.

+x+x+x+

"You've got to be kidding me."

Locke shook his head. "I'm not," he insisted. "The shot hit him in the head and his face melted before he could make a sound of his own volition. What in the world did you call me here for that you couldn't bring up over the phone?"

Arvis sighed. "We came across something in the mines, a while back," he replied. "It looked... demonic. _Otherworldy_, even."

"Go on."

"It was encased in ice," Arvis explained. "But it was ice that _burned_ at the touch. Not just cold enough that it felt like it at first; this was _real heat_. It had wings protruding from its back, adorned in feathers that alternated the colours of Feymarch's vanguard triad. Its face was murderous, with no lips to hide sharpened fangs, and a nose with hardly any flesh to guard it. The skin over its ribs was adorned with gaps - not cuts, but the natural way its flesh formed - and its neck was ridged like it was made for soud. Its hands and feet were arced into talons, and its eyes were white voids."

Locke drummed his fingers against his knife's handle. "Did you see it yourself," he asked, "or is that someone else's recount?"

Arvis shook his head. "I wouldn't relay it like that if it wasn't mine," he insisted. "I was with the crew that found it."

"Right," the treasure hunter murmured. "The colour on its wings... was it the natural colour?"

"What do you mean, 'natural'?"

"Was it flush with the feathers," Locke explained, "or were there... patches of something else?"

Arvis shook his head. "Right into it," he insisted. "I bet you could pluck one off, if it wasn't frozen, and it'd be coloured through."

Locke sighed. "Sounds like a siren, pushed to desperation," he admitted, "but their feathers are white. Sometimes a dark grey when they go feral." A pause; "I'd like to see for myself. Any chance I can get in there and have a look?"

"I don't think so," Arvis protested. "They're not letting civilians in there. They even got Ymir on guard in the deeper tunnels."

"Ymir?" Locke mused. "You mean that volt kid?" He had encountered the child on his last visit; a thunder beast, young by human years, that had been living deep in the mines of Narshe.

Arvis grinned. "That's the one," he mused. "We haven't managed to figure out what runs his form, so we don't know how to recede his transformation, but he's on guard past the first gate. Anyone who gets through it is in for a hell of a shock."

A light chuckle from Locke at Arvis' joke. "Alright," the treasure hunter mused. "I'm gonna head for Figaro and let them know. Call me if there's any trouble."

"Consider yourself called."

+x+x+x+

It was only a week after the thief's departure that it occurred.

The Narshean scouts reported a strange figure approaching the snow-dusted town. Arvis took a perch on a small walkway that linked the back of his home to an older mine, waiting for the newcomer to show herself. Given Locke's encounter with the Imperials, he had every right to be suspicious; yet he tried to tell myself it wouldn't be so dire. Surely one person couldn't be such a dangerous visitation... could it?

He caught sight of her before too long; a young woman in naught but a simple, short red dress, with tight, detached sleeves around her arms and flowing sashes from her waist. Her hair, shining emerald, was bound in a ponytail behind her, and upon her head was a simple golden circlet. Her feet were wrapped in red dress boots with gold trim; through they had a slight heel to them, it was nothing that would require extensive training.

It was her footfalls, however, that truly caught Arvis' attention. The way she walked was nothing extraordinary, if a bit more _militant_ than one would expect from a glance at her garments; but she left no prints in the snow. She wasn't walking _in_ the snow, her feet sinking into it and leaving a clear indentation; she was walking _upon_ the snow, leaving only the disturbance of contact, such that it would drift away from the slightest movement of the air.

The town elder emerged from a building nearby, causing the woman to come to a stop in the center of the town. "Might I ask your business here, Miss?" he demanded.

"...I am a dancer." The woman's voice was distant, such as one not accustomed to speaking. "I came here... hearing there had been... some sort of occurrence recently. That it had put... the people of the town... in a poor state of mind."

"Are you calling us fools?" the elder demanded, angry. Then, kinder; "Or... are you talking about the attitude of the townspeople?"

The dancer nodded. "Yes... I heard it had set... depression... into the people."

The elder hummed curiously. "And so you have come here hoping to lift our spirits, is that it?"

"...Would you like me to dance for you?" the woman asked. This was more practiced, as though it were a phrase she used often.

"Are you not tired from your journey?" the elder asked in return. "The trip here is a cold one. Perhaps you would like to rest?"

"I... have no need... of rest," the dancer replied, slow again.

The elder sighed. "Well, if you would, I'd like to see what you can do." He took a few steps back, providing her with some room in case her performance should necessitate it.

The woman waited for him to stop; then she took half a step backwards, angling her body such that her feet were perpendicular to one another.

She held one hand forward, palm skyward; and she raised the other hand skyward, palm forward.

A breath passed through her lips, forging a suddenly thick mist in the air as heat met chill.

From nowhere did music emerge, and the dancer quickly brought her body to twist, arcing into a spin as she gracefully swept low and then leapt into the air. She landed as lightly as she had walked, leaving not prints but merely disturbing the snow beneath her feet, before twirling on one foot with the other raised behind her back; one hand was out at her side, the other raised above her. One turn, two, three, then she leapt back, flipping forward before landed with her legs parted and one palm upon the snow, her momentum dragging her backwards slightly.

The surface beneath her feet was only lightly disturbed; yet the snow her hand skidded across was turned to _mist_, like water against hot metal._  
_

It was then that the dancer leapt again, lashing one foot into a kick to propel her body into a backwards flip, and a _bolt of fire_ emerged from the heel of her boot, flying forward.

The elder shouted, diving against the snow as the flame passed over his head. Arvis, from his perch upon the walkway, gave a yelp of horror and leapt away as the blaze slammed into the wood; the blast did not burn, but _exploded_, sending planks of the walkway falling into the snow on the path to the mines (though not enough that Arvis couldn't leap the gap if he saw fit).

The dancer landed in such a manner that could be used by a martial artist, striking a fallen foe; and a _wall of flame_ ripped through the snow immediately behind her, barring entrance to or exit from Narshe. From the buildings around the town emerged a series of guards, each man wrapped in white cloth to guard the chill and carrying a sharpened cane.

"Stand down!"

The woman only continued to dance, every movement of her limbs launching bolts of flame towards them. The guards tried to evade, tried to close in; but their canes were no match for the dancer's flames, and it wasn't long before they were each cast to the snows, their garments alight and their bodies lifeless.

Through the flames emerged two giant machines - humanoid in form, but draconic in appearance, each twice the size of the dancer - with armed soldiers atop them.

"That was so many levels of badass," one of the soldiers mused, glancing at the fallen guards.

"No kidding," the other agreed. Then, shouting to the dancer; "Hey, put the wall out!"

The fire behind them extinguished, revealing an array of soldiers standing there, armed.

One of the pilots on the machines stood up in his seat, catching sight of the mines and the wrecked walkway. "Alright," he mused, "everyone remember our orders?"

"Flare Dancer takes point," the other mech pilot recited. "Gibbs, you and me stay right behind and blast whoever tries to block the path. Everyone else, keep your shots loaded. Anything from the sides or the back gets pumped full of Ramuh."

"Yes, sir!" the soldiers called at once.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Deweg, I asked if you remembered, not for you to repeat them."

"Hey, don't act like it hurts the fight," Deweg protested, grasping his controls again. Gibbs only rolled his eyes and did the same.

The woman, Flare Dancer, only stepped forward, her footfalls without footprints militant once again. Several other guards tried to attack them - barring their way, sandwiching them from the sides, even trying to leap at them from the rooftops - but every last one of them was slaughtered mercilessly. Arvis saw all of this from his perch at the walkway; though none of the soldiers so much as glanced up, the woman seemed to take sight of him. To his fortune, she did not announce his presence to the soldiers.

"Gestahlian Imperial Magitek Armour," Arvis muttered as Gibbs and Deweg marched past. "Holy shit."

He quickly retreated into his home and dialed up Locke.

+x+x+x+

The mines were completely empty as the soldiers marched in. There was what seemed to be an unused minecart track, which was a relief; Magitek Armour could handle uneven terrain, but it was a significantly more difficult ride. Several troops were left to guard the entrance, but most of the soldiers continued further into the mines. They found a massive steel gate barring the way, only ten paces back; Deweg only huffed, cracking his knuckles.

"Leave this to me," he insisted.

Flare Dancer stepped away, coming to a stop between the legs of Gibbs' mech as Deweg moved his forward. Rather than firing his beams, he only brought the arms of his mech back before lashing them both forward at the same time; the entire gate was pried from its hold on the walls of the cave, flying further in.

"Did they really think that was going to hold us back?" Gibbs mused.

"I don't think so," Deweg admitted, leaning back in his seat. "I figure that was more to keep civilians out. Must have been deemed-"

A crackle of voltage caused him to turn.

"...unsafe?"

At that moment did a _bolt of lightning_ rip through Deweg's Magitek Armour, tearing a clean hole through the machine for the brief moment in which it was otherwise alright; then the mech began to _combust from within_, causing Deweg to leap off and land on the arm of Gibbs' machine.

Standing on the other side of the soldiers was a figure who could not be more than thirteen years old - by size. Yet he had the build of a muscleman, with raised veins all across his flesh, hands and feet formed of massive claws; and his skin completely voltic gold. His hair flowed the length of his whole body, and was shining platinum blonde; his face was adorned in tribal patterns, his eyes voids of silver. His mouth was open, revealing teeth like a bear; and despite all of this, his stance was humanoid.

The soldiers all raised their weapons towards him, yet he did not give them a chance to fire upon him; he lashed his hands against the abandoned cart track, and _pure voltage_ leapt down and across the beams of steel, consuming all his foes with electrical force rivalling that of an execution. When the volts died down, the soldiers fell to the earth, lifeless.

"Yeah!" The voice came from further into the mine, where a man in a longjacket was watching. "Get him, Ymir!"

Gibbs only rolled his eyes, pressing a button on his control panel; a beam of fire surged forward, consuming the man and letting his screams echo through the tunnels.

The beast, Ymir, saw this happen; and he quickly raised his hand towards the machine. Flare Dancer took notice and stepped out from under the mech's legs, and Deweg quickly leapt off, landing on the wreckage of his own mech as a bolt of lightning flew from Ymir's palm. The blast struck the machine and consumed the entire thing with the voltage of an EMP bomb; the only reason Gibbs managed to survive was the fact that the pilot's seat was insulated, _in case of _something like this. A couple shocks still struck Gibbs, however, and his own yelling was testament to that. When the shocks faded, the mech began to fall over, and its pilot quickly leapt down as it landed upon the wrecks of the first one.

A bullet slammed into Ymir's arm - and as the limb was thrown forward, it was _consumed_ in violent voltage from the round itself. The beast turned to see the four soldiers who had been guarding the entrance standing there, weapons levelled; upon seeing the monster turn, the soldier whose gun was smoking glanced down at his weapon. "_Shit_, Ramuh rounds!" he yelled.

Ymir only raised his wounded arm before his face, voltage ripping up across it, until the fragmented pieces of the bullet were ejected from the gap left by the shot; then he lashed both hands to his sides, and his entire body _transformed_ into an outline formed of lightning bolts; the bolts vanished into the railing, and the guards had only time to glance around before he appeared five paces behind them. He quickly took six paces and drove his electrified claws into their backs, throwing them to the ground; then he stepped back and impaled the remaining two soldiers in the necks with similar shocks before dragging their heads into each other.

At this point, Flare Dancer stepped forward, standing straight before him. Ymir quickly pulled his claws out of the soldiers, the voltage evaporating the blood as he stepped forward. Once they were ten paces from one another, and each of them could see the other's eyes, he took a stance like he was prepared to run, holding his hands out to his sides.

Flare Dancer took the same pose she had at the start of her dance; feet perpendicular, one hand forward, palm up, the other hand skyward, palm forth.

A moment's pause.

Then Ymir leapt forward, and Flare Dancer arced her body low as gunshots sounded behind her. Two bullets flew over her head and slammed into Ymir - one in his shoulder, one in his arm - and the impact points were consumed with ice as Flare Dancer kicked into a spin. She quickly leapt into the air spinning, bullets flying below her and striking him in the knee and the hip, and those points were wrapped in ice as well before Flare Dancer had landed again.

She leapt back, arcing into a forward flip as shots flew again; these ones struck Ymir in the eyes, and the life had already left him by the time the ice had consumed his helm.

Flare Dancer turned, where Gibbs and Deweg had their revolvers in hand. With grim smirks, the two of them only drove the firearms back into their holsters. "Come on," Gibbs reprimanded, "you're on point."

She acted without a word, stepping between them as they continued, leaving the destroyed mechs where they were.

A few minutes later, they found what they were looking for - a massive figure encased in ice.

"Holy shit," Deweg mused. "No wonder Narshe went into a hype when they saw this."

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed, stepping towards it. "Wonder what the Emperor wants us to do with this?"

Deweg glanced back towards the wreck zone. "That kid took out our whole squadron _and_ our Magitek Armour. Whatever he _wants_ us to do, we can't really _do_ anything. We'll just have to-"

"OW!"

Gibbs' shout caused Deweg to turn to see he had just tried to set his hand on the ice. "Come on, Gibbs," he insisted, "what are you doing?"

"That's... _hot_!" he shouted.

Deweg blinked. "Wait, what?" He stepped forward, reaching towards the frozen chunk. The air around it was increasingly cold the closer his hand got to the ice, just as he expected ice to be. "Seriously?" he protested, glaring at him. "It's just really cold."

Gibbs shook his head. "Put your hand on that and then tell me that!"

"Intense cold comes across as heat when your body first receives it," Deweg insisted, nonetheless reaching for the ice again. "If you just hold it there for a moment, the chill starts to..."

His hand made contact.

The burn _continued_ as he held on.

"Holy _shit_," he gasped, pulling his hand away.

"Told you," Gibbs protested.

The two soldiers drew away from the ice until they were behind Flare Dancer once more; then the turned back to it, thinking.

"I wonder what a Shiva round will do to that," Deweg mused.

He and Gibbs drew their pistols and fired; Gibbs was faster on the draw, which meant that his shot struck first - to no effect. As Deweg's hit behind it, the ice began to glow, and voltage the colour of night sky began to spark over the chilly surface. All three of them reacted, taking another step back; Gibbs and Deweg braced their revolvers, reaching for short swords strapped at their belts, whilst Flare Dancer took her pre-dance posture, preparing for a fight in case it came.

The voltage continued for a long, threatening moment... and then it receded, vanishing and leaving the ice unmarred. The soldiers and dancer all sighed in relief, lowering their arms.

"That could have been-"

Gibbs' observation was cut short when the necrous voltage started up again; this time a bolt slammed into his face, and before he had time to scream, his body had disappeared. Deweg turned towards the location where he had been. "Gibbs?" he cried. "Where'd you-!"

Another bolt slammed into him, now, and he too was gone before he could shout. Left on her own, Flare Dancer could only stand before the frozen creature, silent, her arms extended in case of a fight. The dark lightning continued to leap up and down across the surface of the ice, and so she only kept her eyes on those of the creature inside.

A third bolt surged forward, but this one lingered when it struck her helm, and the circlet embedded there. The voltage twisted in its arc through the air as the circlet began to glow, wrapping the dancing girl's helm in heat and chill at the same time, and her facade of militant obedience began to fade as her mouth opened, and cries of pain echoed through the cavern.

Eventually it became too much, and the crown was torn apart by minute explosions as her consciousness faded.

* * *

Draco: Merry Christmas, VI-ers! I hope this is the only chapter of this that comes out this month, mostly because I have other fics to function.


	8. Smoke and Clouds

Draco: I think I've reached that point in otakudom where I start tying things together. I just [midnight date-turning of 2015-01-13] re-binged _Chibi Vampire_ and managed to link it to _xXxHOLiC_ based on a minor plot point, pick out a potential _Rosario+Vampire_ reference, and compared the point immediately proceeding the ending to _Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII_. Which I haven't actually played myself. Oh, and I've pre-planned a oneshot songfic for Bentely Jones' _Axiomatis_ that will not be begun until _Kingdom Hearts III_ has been released, dissected, and Final Mixed.

Don't get your hopes up, by the way. Those Eliminator jackasses are gonna shoot it down if I put it up here, you'll have to get an eye on my deviantART account. Huh... you know, I suppose I can't spell deviantART like that anymore after the redesign, can I? ...Mulch it, I love that dAmn tic.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Smoke and Clouds**

_We won't stop until we say we're done..._

The song was silenced as Locke flicked his phone open from atop a roof in South Figaro. "Lock, stock, and-"

_"Shut up and get to Narshe."_

+x+x+x+

It felt strange, for a reason she could not discern, to think of the pain she felt as though her mind was on fire; yet she could give no other description. Her eyes stubbornly refused to open; it was as though something had sealed them shut. A thick blanket lay over her, but her body was too weak to move it. She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry to direct words, and not came out but a grating groan.

Something icy cold connected with her face.

She jolted in place before she realized it was water.

The liquid dripped towards her eyes, and the moisture helped lead her to open them. Standing over her was a man with a face of concern, with hair of a very bright blond. "Are you alright?" he asked.

She tried again to speak, but formed no words.

The man held a glass of water out to her; slowly, she managed to draw one hand out and grasp it. "You're in the city of Narshe," he informed her as she took a drink from the glass. "My name is Arvis. Can you tell me yours?"

The liquid helped to ease her throat, but her mind still felt alight; she could hardly think through it. Slowly, she shook her head.

"Do you... remember anything?"

Another slow shake.

Arvis sighed. "I feared as much," he murmured. "They were controlling you. I wasn't sure what it would do to your memory, but I knew nothing good could come of it." A pause; "Perhaps this will jog your memory. The men directing you addressed you as... Flare Dancer."

She was quiet for a long moment, but again she shook her head.

"It was worth a shot," Arvis grumbled. "Can you rise?"

At the question, Flare Dancer drained what was left of the glass; then she held it back towards him, and once he had accepted it she managed to push the covers off of her and get to her feet well enough.

"I'm... alright..." she said slowly.

Arvis nodded. "Try to take it easy, for now," he insisted. "Whatever happened in the mines was not kind to you."

A nasty _thud_ from outside caused her to jump, turning towards the sound and raising her arms instinctively; one before her, one above her. A series of knocks on the door, and a harsh voice; "Open up!"

"Son of Diabolos," Arvis muttered. "Stay here." Stepping out of the room, he called back; "What do you need? I told you, I don't have any-"

"We know you got that woman who was with those Imperials out of the mine!" the roar from outside retaliated.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you have your lighter on you?"

Arvis reached into his empty pocket. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

"Open this door!"

Rather than comply, Arvis dashed back into the room where Flare Dancer was waiting. "Change of plans," he insisted. "You've got to get out of here. They're not going to listen to me."

"What...?" Flare Dancer was confused; was there something she was missing?

"Just go!" he insisted, pulling open a hidden door next to the room entrance that led into an old stairwell. "There's an old cave down these stairs that I'm using as a hidden storage. Wait there, I'll send Locke to get you out of here. Go!"

The urgency in his voice got her moving; Flare Dancer quickly stepped through the doorway, and Arvis didn't hesitate to close the door behind her.

+x+x+x+

"Well. That happened."

Locke was feeling uncomfortable after a thorough frisking from some very intense Narshe security. Only now was he glad Arvis had called him back before he could get up to anything; all he had on him was his knife and his phone. The treasure hunter quickly made his way to Arvis' place, finding him sitting at a tabble with a dejected look on his face.

"What's the deal, Arvis?" Locke asked. "I was in the middle of a-"

"Imperial attack force," Arvis interrupted.

Locke fell quiet. "Oh. Well. Damn."

"Two sets of Imperial Magitek Armour," Arvis continued as Locke took a seat. "A dozen men. And a woman who called herself a dancer, who destroyed everything that came close. She was being controlled. When she stepped into the town, she was wearing a circlet over her head, but when I found her unconscious in the mines it was gone. She doesn't remember anything - I think they were controlling her with it."

"How far did they make it?" Locke asked.

"Ymir took out their mechs and the on-foot troops, but the pilots shot him down and covered him in ice," Arvis replied. "That thing in the mines with the flaming ice must have taken them down, but I don't know why she's still alive."

Locke drummed his fingers on the table. "What do you want me to do?"

"She's in the hidden basement now," Arvis stated. "Get her out of here, and take her to South Figaro. I'm going to speak with the town elder and see if he'll see sense."

+x+x+x+

Arvis' house was raised off the ground; what felt, on the inside, to be an underground basement was actually a cave at ground level, cut off by the building's own structure. Locke found the woman Arvis had mentioned sitting inside, with the three torches used for light blazing in their holders. She was sitting on the floor in the middle of the cave, her legs crossed before her, her hands closed over one another against her feet, and her head bowed. Her bright jade hair was done in a ponytail behind her, and her eyes were closed only lightly.

Nervously, Locke coughed lightly to clear his throat, causing her to raise her gaze and revealing a pair of bright green eyes. "Hi," he greeted, a small smile rising on his lips. "I-"

The woman quickly pushed herself to her feet, taking a step back so her feet rested perpendicular to one another, raising her arms so that one was aimed forward and the other was held skyward. Locke's smile faded, and he slowly raised his hands, palms towards her, to show he meant no harm.

A heavy breath emerged from her lips, forming a mist in the air - despite the cave not holding enough of Narshe's chill to mist Locke's own breath.

"...Are you... Locke...?"

The treasure hunter sighed heavily. "Yes," he replied. "Arvis told you about me?"

"He said... he would send Locke... to get me... out of here."

"Locke Cole. That's me," Locke insisted. "Have..." He stopped, and restarted; "Arvis told me you didn't remember anything. Has anything come back?"

The woman lowered her stance, her gaze falling.

Locke decided not to press on it. "Anyways, we should get going," he said to her. "I know a way through the old mine that'll get us out of town without anyone seeing us. Here," he added, stepping towards what appeared to be a closet, "you should probably have a weapon in case we run into any Imperial stragglers."

Inside was a small rack of blades; a thin rapier, a broadsword, and a pair of daggers lay inside, along with corresponding sheaths at the side. Slowly, the woman stepped forward, looking at the four weapons, before reaching in and taking the two knives.

"Just those?" Locke asked.

"I... yes," she replied. "I just..."

Locke shook his head. "Don't fret over it," he insisted. "Everyone has their preferences. Come on." He started out before turning to the woman, who was hooking the sheaths to the knives onto her arms. "Do... do you have a name?"

"Arvis said they called me... Flare Dancer," the woman prompted, sliding the knives into their sheaths.

"Flare Dancer?" Locke mused. "Well, it certainly has a ring to it." Seeing her glancing at the sheaths as though thoughtful, he asked, "Is something wrong?"

"A name," she murmured. "There's a name... stuck in my mind. I don't know... maybe it's mine."

Locke smiled lightly again. "What is it?"

"Ymir."

That triggered a jolt through Locke. "Yeah, no," he insisted, his smile fading. "That's not you."

Flare Dancer turned to him. "What... do you mean?"

"It's the name of a kid the Imperials killed," he explained. "Come on, we'd better get going."

+x+x+x+

Locke led Flare Dancer back up the stairs to Arvis' house. Once he was sure the building was empty, he pulled open the back door and beckoned for her to follow. Just outside the door waited a bridge leading to an older, long-abandoned mine - and Locke was slightly displeased to see that there was a fair gap in the walkway.

"Well," he muttered. "That complicated things."

Flare Dancer emerged and saw the gap. "Is this... our way out?" she asked.

"Yeah," Locke confirmed. "Can you jump that?"

After only a glance at it; "Yes... Sorry."

Locke chuckled. "Don't apologize for being capable." He glanced around warily. "You're gonna want to move fast, we can't risk anyone-"

Footsteps caused him to cut himself off; Flare Dancer was running full-tilt towards the gap in the bridge. Locke was thoroughly impressed when she drove her foot into one edge of the gap and leapt clear across without hardly breaking stride, landing smoothly on the other side. With a roll of his eyes, the treasure hunter dashed after her; he didn't quite manage the whole leap, but was able to grab the edge without hurting himself too badly.

A Narshean resident immediately below heard his grunt of discomfort and glanced up to see a familiar figure. "Hey, Locke!" he called.

"Hey," Locke groaned, trying to clamber up.

"Arvis probably should have warned you," the passerby mused. "The Imperial squadron that came through smashed that thing. He hardly made it himself."

Locke scoffed. "Not surprised," he grumbled. "He mentioned Magitek Armor, I can't imagine it would fit under here." Flare Dancer was approaching him, but he beckoned for her to stay back.

"It wasn't them," the passerby corrected. "The pilots had to duck, but it fit up right quick. It was that dancer. She blasted it apart."

"What?"

Flare Dancer caught herself too late; a hand flew to her mouth, but the Narshean had already noticed. He took a few paces to the side, caught sight of her, and yelled; "You! The dancer!"

"Shit," Locke muttered. "Help me up!"

Guards were already approaching them as Flare Dancer pulled the treasure hunter to his feet. Without another option to hit at that range, they started hurling their canes forward; Locke ran low to the ground to avoid being hit, but he could have sworn his companion took a couple blows to the arms.

The two of them retreated into the mine and came to a stop against its walls. Locke listened carefully; he could hear orders being barked, and with a low growl he muttered, "So much for the element of stealth."

Flare Dancer lowered her gaze. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," he insisted. "What about you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm... fine," she replied.

"Are you sure?" Locke questioned. "I could have sworn I saw..."

He cut himself off. There was a small gash at her wrist, but it was slowly fading; after a moment, it was gone, as though it was never there.

Locke turned away. "Okay..."

Flare Dancer turned to him. "Something wrong?"

"No... it's nothing," Locke insisted. "Come on, we've gotta get through this mine to get out of Narshe. You're gonna want to stay armed, this place can get nasty." He drew his knife, prompting Flare Dancer to pull her own weapons from the sheaths on her wrists. Though Locke preferred a grip like a blade, he was intrigued to find her holding her own knives backhand; he dismissed it as unimportant and simply guided her forward.

They hadn't made it very far before they found a guard dashing his way towards the bridge. The moment he saw them, he started shouting back through the tunnel; Locke silenced him with a blow to the jaw, but the damage was done. Sure enough, they hardly made it fifteen paces before a squadron of guards approached them.

Locke held his knife earthward.

Flare Dancer took the same posture as when Locke had first found her; one hand before her, palm up, one above her, palm forward - having weapons in her hands meant that both points were now towards Locke.

"I don't... _want_... to hurt-"

"I call BS on anything that comes out of your mouth," the frontmost guard protested.

A man behind him rushed forward; Locke was about to step forward when he saw Flare Dancer arc into a spin. She managed to strike at his weapon hand with a pointed kick, striking the cane to the ground before setting her foot against his and slamming a second kick into his side. The man _skidded_ backwards as Flare Dancer came to a stop, returning her posture.

"Please..." she insisted. "I just... want to leave..."

The men all took a step forward.

Flare Dancer leapt backwards, arcing into a forward flip.

And a _bolt of fire_ ripped out of her heel, flying through the air _just_ above their heads and slamming into the walls behind them.

Locke swore under his breath - but that didn't stop him from taking notice of the way the men parted in a panic. The moment Flare Dancer landed, he grabbed her arm and dashed forward, tearing through the break between them and tripping the last man he passed to provide something of an obstacle. Once they were out of grabbing range, he released her arm, knowing she would run faster with free movement. He knew the route through the mines inside out and sideways, and it didn't take long before they were almost out.

Then he heard a second squad of soldiers coming in.

His knife found the floor to slow him to a stop, and he quickly backed up. Flare Dancer followed him as he pulled back into a short, wide dead-end, hearing the soldiers coming from both of their available passages. Panicking, trying to think of a way out of here, he didn't take notice of Flare Dancer kneeling down on the surface, tapping her knife against it.

The leader of the soldiers came into view.

Flare Dancer quickly shot upright and slammed her heel into the stone beneath her and Locke; and a small explosion sounded as it shattered, causing the two of them to plummet.

Locke managed to land smoothly on the level of the mines below.

Flare Dancer more or less crumpled as she hit the ground.

+x+x+x+

"Let me get this straight..."

Emperor Ghestal had received a report from the soldier who had been monitoring the attack squad to Narshe. "I had a _full attack force_ sent to scout Narshe, and _everyone involved_ was decimated?"

"Yes, sir," the soldier confirmed. "The foot troops were defeated on their way through the mines. The Magitek Armour as well. Commanders Gibbs and Deweg, and _her_, made it through to the hidden point in the mines, but they were taken out as well." A pause; "Well, okay, I don't know for _sure_ that _she_ was taken out, but her equipment exploded. I think it's safe to assume that she's done for."

Ghestal drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. "So... you have video proof of what they had back there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Bring it here."

"Yes, sir." The soldier started to turn.

"And, cadet?"

The soldier came to a stop as the Emperor raised a hand before himself.

"**Never** _assume_ that **_she_** is done for."

+x+x+x+

When Flare Dancer regained consciousness, she found herself in a very square, very _contained_ section cavern. Looking around, there appeared to be no entry or exit; the surface above them told her that Locke had moved her since she had avoided their pursuers. There were torches on two walls; Locke was sitting nearby, turning his knife in hand by the blade.

"...How... did we... get here?"

Locke turned towards her. "Oh, you're awake," he mused. "I owe you one for getting us out of there. Could have sworn we were screwed." Getting to his feet, he replied to her question; "It's a little safe-zone Arvis helped me set up. It only works with my knife. Come on, I think the patrols should have worn out by now."

Flare Dancer pulled herself to her feet as Locke stepped to the center of the room. He turned towards the corner between the two torches. "Okay, those mark the solid walls," he mused. "Came in to a torch on my right, so that means..." He stepped towards the torch on the left and drove it into a crack that Flare Dancer had taken as just the cave's natural formation; a single second passed, then the rocks to her left seemed to fall into the earth.

"Get through," Locke insisted.

She slowly stepped out, finding herself surrounded by snowfall. She could make out the town she had passed through not far to her left; to her right was a solid stone wall. Locke waited until she was past the arch; then he pulled his knife out and leapt after her. Another fall of rocks only just missed his toes as the access was covered up again.

"I've lost a shoe to that thing more than once," he admitted. Turning to the stone wall, he pointed out another crack there. "This one triggers it from this end. Keep that in mind."

"...Alright," Flare Dancer murmured, not certain why she would need to know. "Where... do we go now?"

Locke drove his knife into his sheath. "Figaro," he replied. "Little town at the edge of desert and sea. Good place. Good people. Not a lot of good valuables."

Flare Dancer turned to him. "You're... a thief?"

"_Treasure hunter_," Locke corrected. "Your dances might be kinda destructive, but I'll bet you still don't want me calling you a pyrotechnician." The comparison only caused Flare Dancer to lower her gaze. With a sigh, Locke asked, "You remember anything yet?"

A shake of her head. "...Nothing... useful," she murmured. "Just... another name."

Locke scratched the back of his head. "What name?" he asked, hoping it wasn't someone she had killed again.

"Terra."

* * *

Draco: Think I'll call it there for now.


	9. Castles In The Sand

Draco: The cyclical approach seems to be working so far. Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Castles In The Sand**

"Is there something... important in Figaro?"

Flare Dancer's question caused Locke to shrug nonchalantly. They were making their way through the desert with relatively good time, but he was still pretty impressed that she wasn't tiring out - especially since he was making an effort to appear that he didn't. "Put simply, the guys who were controlling you are going to want you back," he explained. "Narshe is not full of people who are going to be able to fight you off, and if the chaos on the way in is any sort of indication, they're not going to be nice about it."

He rolled his shoulders. "Figaro, on the other hand, that's a place where the people know how to deal with unwelcome soldiers. The Imperials try and get at you, they're gonna get turned away or pay for refusing to."

His explanation caused Flare Dancer lowered her gaze. "I see..."

"Don't sweat it," Locke insisted.

A familiar sound caught his ears, and he sighed in relief as he turned to see a pair of familiar uniformed men on chocobos riding towards him. Flare Dancer followed her gaze to see them; as she reached to draw her daggers, Locke quickly stopped her. "Relax," he insisted, "these are friends."

One of the men recognized the treasure hunter. "Locke Cole!" he cheered. "On your way to South Figaro?"

"Had a spot of trouble with the Imperials," Locke replied. "Figured I'd head someplace safe to hide out."

"Hate to tell you," the other man mused, "but the town's not exactly a safe place to be hiding right now. Some punk with a ring full of lockpicks broke into the town office; that place is in high security and they know your face."

Locke sighed. "Well, that cuts us short," he murmured.

The first speaker hopped off his chocobo. "We're on our way back to the castle. Why don't you and your friend hop on and follow us there?"

The treasure hunter hesitated, glancing at Flare Dancer. "Is Edgar around?" he asked of the men.

"Don't worry about him," the still-mounted guard insisted. "He was still in mechanic mode last I heard. She'll be fine."

"Then I think I'll take you up on that," Locke mused, hopping up on the chocobo.

Flare Dancer approached warily. "Where's... this castle?" she asked.

Locke chuckled. "It's smack-dab in the middle of the desert, but damn if he doesn't know how to keep his place cool. And that place is a fortress when it needs to be, so don't worry about the Imperials finding you. Hop on."

The chocobo's former rider hopped up with his companion as the treasure hunter helped Flare Dancer onto this chocobo's back, and the four of them quickly took off.

"Who's this... Edgar?" Flare Dancer asked as they rode.

"A machinist," Locke mused. "And a flirt. Don't worry, though; if I explain your situation with the Empire and the amnesia, he's got enough chivalry that he'll back off."

A moment's pause.

Then, under his breath; "I think..."

+x+x+x+

Figaro Castle was rather understated, at first glance. Her mind said it was impressive as it stood, but Flare Dancer had the weirdest sensation of having seen much larger quite frequently. There were several guards gathered outside - some on chocobos, others on foot. Locke got off the steed at the door, beckoning for Flare Dancer to follow, before leading her towards the door.

One of the guards stepped forward to block his path. "Halt!" Then, when Locke raised an eyebrow; "Oh, it's you. Never mind."

"Is he still all 'machina' in there?" Locke asked.

"Too many failures," the soldier replied as he stepped back into position. "He's doing target practice in the throne room to calm down so he doesn't do something stupid and hasty."

"Gotcha," Locke mused.

He led Flare Dancer inside. The woman seemed slightly confused, and once the door was closed behind them she asked, "Target practice? In... In the throne room?"

"Nothing like you're probably thinking," Locke insisted. "It's just his way of venting frustration. No real 'targets', he just kinda takes aim at something in the room and fires. He's got enough presence of mind that he won't fire on someone walking in."

The throne room wasn't terribly far into the castle, though Flare Dancer reckoned that the castle was wider than it was long. There was a man perched on an arm of on one of the thrones there, in a flowing blue cape and bright blue armour - though his arms and legs were clad in blue cloth. His face seemed well-cared, and his blonde hair was tied behind him, bound in two separate places. He had what seemed to be a customized crossbow in hand; several spent bolts littered a series of tapestries across the wall, and upon sighting the two of them he pulled himself off the throne and approached them.

"Locke!" he called. "Long time. Oh, and who's this?"

Locke stepped forward to meet him halfway. "Flare Dancer, for now," he mused. "She was being controlled by the Imperial soldiers sent to Narshe. Whatever they did left her with a spot of amnesia." Under his breath; "Do everyone a favour and don't push your luck."

The crossbowman nodded. "Fair enough," he mused. "At least until she starts remembering, yes?" Before Locke could retaliate, he stepped forward. "Welcome, Flare Dancer. It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance." With a flourish and a bow, he introduced himself; "King Edgar Roni Figaro, at your service."

Flare Dancer blinked in astonishment. "What... King?"

A chuckle from Locke prompted Edgar to rise from his bow. "I had to leave you with a _little_ surprise," he insisted. "Bet you weren't expecting a lowly treasure hunter like me to know a king, huh?"

Edgar gave Locke a sideways glance that seemed to say 'Are you still calling yourself that?' before turning back to Flare Dancer. "I shall have a room prepared for you in which to rest. I am certain the trip through Figaro Desert here has been less than kind. In the meantime, I invite you to wander the castle to your heart's delight. I'm certain Locke here can show you around if there's something in particular you're looking for."

"I... No," Flare Dancer murmured. "It won't... be necessary."

"Are you certain?" Edgar asked. "Surely you must be hungry? It would be no extra effort to get you a meal."

The woman lowered her gaze to the floor for a moment; then she shook her head. "No," she replied. "I'm not."

"Very well..."

+x+x+x+

The room was prepared before too long had passed, and Locke was the one who found Flare Dancer perched atop a tower outside.

"What does... Edgar... do, as a King?" she asked as Locke led her through the castle.

"He's a mechanic," Locke explained. "He's always working on new combat tools. Even his shots in the throne room are with his own invention - a quick-fire crossbow with a two-action draw mechanism. Maybe I can have him show you sometime. He's currently working on something he calls an 'Air Anchor' - he won't tell me what exactly it is, but it sounds incredibly promising."

Flare Dancer was quiet for bit. "I mean... who does he side with?"

Locke felt awkward now. "Oh, that's what you meant. Sorry."

"It's alright..."

"Here we are!" Locke pulled open a door. "This will function as your room for now." Then; "We're gonna want to step inside."

Flare Dancer walked in ahead of him, and Locke quickly closed the door behind him as he stepped in.

"As far as the Gestahlian Empire is concerned," the treasure hunter explained, "the forces of Figaro serve as an ally in whatever the _hell_ it is that they're up to. Edgar doesn't like talking about what that is exactly. But underneath the lies and half-assed diplomacy, he's putting his time, money, and machina to helping us."

"You?" Flare Dancer was kind of surprised at that.

"The Returners," Locke elaborated. "A group who sees Gestahl and his army for exactly what they are - absolutely batshit _insane_. I more or less do the running around between Edgar, Arvis, and Banon - the guy in charge of the whole shtick. We're trying to stop Gestahl from getting at anything he shouldn't."

A sigh passed through his lips. "Don't worry, though," he insisted. "You've got enough to deal with, with the whole missing memories thing. If you're just looking for refuge, we're not going to make you fight." He pulled the door open. "Get some rest. I'll talk to Edgar about when South Figaro will be open. It'll be easier to hide out there."

Flare Dancer nodded. "Alright..."

+x+x+x+

The sun was setting that day as Edgar was greeted by an unpleasant visitor.

A patrol in the highest tower caught sight of a small group of Imperial troops marching towards Figaro. The familiar figure at the front of the squadron was the biggest alert; after grumbling displeasedly and spitting off the edge of the tower, he quickly made his way down to alert the king.

Edgar made his way out to greet the newcomer himself (Castle Figaro had an antechamber that lead to both the courtyard of the castle and the prisons, and he didn't want any of his prisoners getting any ideas). He recognized the figure anywhere as it approached; a multi-coloured outfit that looked like hell to put on. A ruffled white collar striped red, poofy red sleeves, a red cape with green trim, black leather boots, a scarf in blue and yellow, and white tights with red zebra stripes, combined with white face-paint and a crimson smile around his lips.

The makeup looked messy, though Edgar assumed it had been affected by the heat - not out of any respect, mind, but due to the fact that he had seen this man in less heated conditions and it was generally a little neater.

"Gestahlian Commander Kefka Palazzo!" Edgar greeted, a smile of false welcome on his face. "It has been a long time."

"King Edgar Roni Figaro," the commander mused condescendingly. "Why you have a castle in the middle of the desert I'll never know." He spun on one heel as he spoke, looking around the empty desert bored.

Edgar waved a hand dismissively. "Old traditions, I suppose," he mused. "Can I get you something? A glass of Black Cauldron? Gaian Salvo dish? Fresh makeup?"

Kefka glared. "I knew it," he muttered. Stomping the sand; "I _knew it!_" As he turned to the soldiers behind him, he demanded, "Why didn't _any_ of you_ tell me_ it was messing up!?"

The soldiers reached for the revolvers at their hips hesitantly.

The commander only blew at his hair. "Whatever," he muttered. "I'll fix it when we get back to Vector." He extended one leg to the side and spun like a wannabe ballerina; Edgar nearly got kicked as he turned, continuing; "_Anyways_, I'm here for a reason." Holding the left side of his head with his right hand; "Someone from our surveillance troops to Narshe went missing." Then he raised that hand to his forehead as he glanced around. "Heard she showed up around here." He held his chin with his right hand.

"Have you seen a girl by the name of Terrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..."

The way he held the consonant implied he had seen someone; yet as Edgar glanced behind him, he realized he had closed the doors behind him, and there was no one to see. He turned back in time to see Kefka finishing a spin on one foot with the other raised behind him before concluding;

"...rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrra Branford around here?"

Edgar chuckled. "Well, now, that's hard to say," he mused, stepping towards the doors. "You're looking for a girl by name?" With a flourish, he turned back to Kefka. "There are more girls in Figaro than sands in the desert. Could you put a name to every grain on your shoes?"

Kefka angled his entire body to the right side as he gripped his left foot to glance at the sole of his boot.

"Please don't actually put a name to every grain on your shoes," Edgar insisted, raising his hands before him.

"A girl with green hair," Kefka replied, not changing his stance aside from moving his open hand to dust the sand off the bottom of his boot. "Green eyes. Dressed in red. Little bit of heel on her boots." He switched his posture to dust off his other boot.

Edgar clicked his tongue. "I can't actually say she's been here," he mused.

Kefka grabbed a grain of sand and flicked it towards Edgar as he straightened out. It bounced ineffectively off his chest. "Come now, Figaro," he insisted, "you're not really trying to deceive me, are you?"

"What in the world gave you that idea?" Edgar mused.

The Imperial stepped up threateningly, grabbed Edgar's shoulder, rose up on his toes, and set his forehead upon the king's own. "You know I don't like it when you fool around, Edgar," he mused threateningly.

Edgar reached up and pried Kefka's hand off his shoulder. "And you know I don't like _men_, Kefka," Edgar insisted, stepping back. Kefka, despite seeming to have been leaning slightly against Edgar, didn't even change position.

"I _hear_ you've been up to things behind the Emperor's back," Kefka mused. Falling back to balance on his heels and reaching down to grip his toes as he looked up to Edgar's face. "Now what would that be about?"

"I do a lot of tinkering," Edgar insisted. "Between that and my many ladies, I'm not surprised it looks a little suspicious. If he'd like, I'm certain I can give Emperor Gestahl a sample..."

Kefka shot up and slammed his hand into one of the doors behind Edgar. "Where is Terrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrra?" he demanded.

Edgar raised an eyebrow when he rolled the _R_ again. "Is she a friend of yours?" Then, upon receiving no response; "I'm sorry, Kefka, I can't help you find this girl. My advice? Give a lady a few dinners before you start trying anything she might be uncomfortable with. I've found it stops women from hating my guts."

He pulled open the door Kefka didn't have his hand on and stepped inside, leaving the Imperial perched there and gazing at nothing; the soldiers stepped in to lift his hand off the door with their polearms.

Locke was waiting just inside. "What in the _world_ was that about?" he mused.

"Come with me, Locke," Edgar insisted. "I've been meaning to show you the new Flash design I'm working on."

Being a machinist had its uses; the two of them had set up a little 'code' for when they wanted to talk about sensitive information within earshot of Imperials, using 'new designs' for a given tool to refer to what they wanted to talk about. The 'Flash' (a simple temporary blinding device that had been perfected long ago) referred to guests that were dangerous for the Empire to know about.

Once they had made their way back to the main building; "Flare Dancer?"

"Terra Branford," Edgar mused. "That's the name Kefka gave to her description."

Locke set a hand on his chin. "She mentioned the name 'Terra' on our way out of Narshe," he murmured. "Earlier, she had mentioned Ymir - the thunder beast kid that the soldiers had taken down - so I thought it was just someone else she had taken down in the past."

Edgar shook his head. "We'll have to talk to her about that tomorrow," he advised. "For now, we'd best leave her alone."

+x+x+x+

As midnight approached, Edgar was roused from slumber - to find much displeasure abound.

He stepped out of the castle's structure to find the stones of the courtyard ablaze. Kefka was standing there, reclining against the inside doors of the antechamber, gazing at the flames with a menacing grin on his face beneath the jester's paint (his makeup seemed to have been redone, making it a little clearer that it was meant to me a grin).

A thick breath passed through Edgar's lips as he stepped forward, his Auto Crossbow hooked over his back. "You're not going to try and tell me that the guard was relaxed when you walked in," he reprimanded of Kefka.

Kefka shrugged - and the flames around him seemed to flare up a bit, briefly, in time with his motion. "I dunno," he mused. "They look pretty relaxed to me."

He snapped his fingers.

Two men hit the ground on either side of him - with their own spears driven into their bodies.

Edgar grit his teeth, raising his gaze to Kefka and reaching for his weapon. "What the hell do you even want?" he demanded.

A reverberating chuckle echoed past the clown's lips. "Just her."

"I don't know what you expected to get out of a trip back here," Edgar insisted.

"Hand over Terra Banford and your castle gets spared," Kefka mused. "Maybe."

Edgar set a hand on his forehead. "I need a drink," he muttered. "Black Cauldron?"

Kekfa laughed at this point - a skyward cackle that rumbled through the air above him. "You're trying to barter with me?"

"That's a no," Edgar muttered, stepping inside.

Locke was already there.

"Get her out of bed," he insisted. "We need to move."

The treasure hunter took off into the castle.

He was quickly replaced by a maintenance man. "King Edgar, sir!" he called. "Your orders?"

"Sandworm the place," he insisted. "I don't know how the hell he set fires on the stones out there, but if we suffocate them, they'll be out in no time."

"Yes, sir!" the man insisted. "I'll have the soldiers move into position."

+x+x+x+

"Dancer."

Her only response was to shift ever so slightly in her bed.

"Flare Dancer!"

Slowly, the amnesiac's eyes opened, revealing the blurred figure of a nighstand; the voice was coming from behind her. One hand reached up to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

"..._Terra!_"

The address caused her to jolt upright, glancing around. Locke was standing at the doorway, looking helliously nervous. "What...?"

"That's your name, isn't it?" he asked. "Terra? Some clown from the Empire came in looking for you."

Flare Dancer lowered her gaze. "I..."

Locke stepped forward, kneeling next to her bedside. "Do you remember anything yet?"

"I... pieces," she murmured. "Just..."

The treasure hunter shook his head. "We can save that for later," he insisted. "The Imperial guy, he's got the place in flames. Edgar's got a way to get us out of here, but we need to get moving!"

The comment prompted her to rise quickly, grabbing the knives she had left at her bedside. Locke directed her to follow him through the castle, leading her to the door at the courtyard - though he stopped her from passing through. Shifting a curtain to one side just enough to see outside, he saw Kefka reclining against the antechamber.

"How the hell do you set fire on stones?" he murmured. "Sure, this place is a desert, but come _on_."

Flare Dancer warily checked out the other curtain. "He... He's the one who... told you my name?"

"Kefka Palazzo," Locke grumbled. "He described you when he said he was looking for Terra Branford. I wouldn't trust his word, but given you said 'Terra' on our way out of Narshe..." Turning to Flare Dancer, he asked, "You recognize him?"

"I... not really," she murmured, releasing her own visual. "I mean, I don't _remember_ him, but I get this... weird... _fear_," she settled. "Like he's done something to me in the past."

Footsteps from nearby caused the two of them to turn to see Edgar standing there. "Are you ready to go?" he asked.

"Yes..."

Edgar glanced out. "When I give the command, you need to be ready to move," he insisted. "No hesitation, no questions, got it?"

"Of course."

"Stay to the side, or he'll notice you." At that, Edgar gripped the doors, and Flare Dancer and Locke dropped low to either side in case the curtains should waver as he pulled them wide, leaving them open as he stepped out to face Kefka again.

"Sorry, Kefka," he called, a brave swagger to his steps. "She's not here."

The jester raised an eyebrow. "Edgar," he reprimanded, pulling off the doors without even moving. "Are you seriously trying to lie to me now?"

Edgar shrugged. "What might I gain from that?" he mused. "You set fire to my castle. A stone castle, in the middle of a sandy desert. How exactly do you think I intend to get anything out of that?"

Kefka turned away, shaking his finger threateningly. "Bring her out, or I'll start spreading the flames," he mused. "You have one minute." He kicked the door open before leaning back on nothing. "Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty seven..."

Locke quickly beckoned Flare Dancer forward, leading her behind one of the off-shot structures in the courtyard as Edgar stepped back. A maintenance man stepped out of the main castle. "Sir!" he shouted. "We're having trouble!"

"What?!" Edgar's bravado broke instantly. "What are you talking about?!"

"The flames are tricking the sensors into thinking it's an overheat," the man insisted. "We can't go anywhere until they're put out!"

Edgar swore.

Kefka's voice raised. "Fourty-eight, fourty-seven, fourty-six..."

Flare Dancer beckoned Edgar to approach. When he got near, she quickly whispered, low enough that Kefka couldn't hear over his own counting; "You just need the flames gone?"

"Yes," Edgar replied, likewise hushed, "but I don't-"

"Is the rest of the getaway ready?"

Edgar was now thoroughly confused. "It is, but we can't just-"

"What's the signal to get it started?"

"Yelling 'Vilia's pipe'," Edgar dismissed, starting to forget the need for quiet, "but that doesn't-"

Flare Dancer interrupted him and stepped past him, standing straight across the courtyard from Kefka, who was still counting with his back turned.

"Thirty three, thirty-two, thirty-one..."

Without hesitating, without even _thinking_ about what she was doing, Flare Dancer crossed her arms over her chest in a _χ_. Flames gathered at her feet, prompting Edgar to yelp as she threw her head back and opened her mouth as though to screech. The flames went still around her, mid-flicker; then they parted from the stones, blazing towards her as she _inhaled_ them, spiralling through the air towards her like a whirlpool of fire focused between her lips.

"Twenty... seven?"

Kefka turned in time to see the last of the flames vanish into her mouth, and she closed her lips and lowered her gaze to the jester, raising her arms; one before her, palm skyward, one above her, palm forward.

"Vilia's pipe!"

The castle began to shake as she leapt into a backwards flip, and a _bolt of fire_ flew from the heel of her boot, slamming into Kefka's chest and throwing him backwards through the doors. Locke glanced over the nearest railing to see a pair of chocobos drawing what looked like a shipment wagon; he quickly slapped Edgar to get him moving and dashed across the courtyard. "Come on!" he yelled. "We've got to go!"

Flare Dancer quickly turned on her heel, her gaze going left and right to see the towers of the castle connected by bridges _closing towards the castle_. Panicking, she dashed after Locke to see their ride pass between the tower and wall with moments to spare.

"Jump!"

The three of them leapt the railing and landed on the wagon roughly, with Edgar nearly tumbling out the back from sloppy timing; and at that point, Castle Figaro began to _sink into the ground_. Locke swore ferociously when he saw the Imperial squadron had been waiting outside - not the least of which was a pair of _Magitek Armour_ mechs. Kefka had landed at the front of the squadron, and had pulled himself to a sitting position in time to see Edgar, Locke, and the dancer riding away on a pair of chocobos.

He steamed; rocking to his feet, he started pounding the ground.

"_TEEEERRRRAAAA!_" Turning to his men; "After them, you idiots!"

The mechs quickly took off to the sides, arcing around to chase after the chocobo-drawn cart. Edgar raised his crossbow and fired as they neared one another, but it fell short and bounced off the mech's structure. Flare Dancer watched with curiosity as he reloaded the crossbow; he pulled back a lever on one side that had been flung forward when he fired, drawing the bowstring back, before winding a wheel on the other to draw it tighter. The mechs were gaining on them; as the crossbow reached peak tension, he slapped the bottom of the bow to grip it, causing a bolt to rise and nestle against the string, before raising it and firing at the pilot of the left mech.

The pilot only ducked, letting the bolt fly over his head harmlessly.

"Edgar, you don't have time to reload!" Locke insisted.

"Damn it, I know!" Edgar shouted, casting the crossbow into the wagon and drawing something out from under his cape. It looked like a small stick, no longer than a dagger's blade, but as he flicked a catch on one side it extended into a long shaft; from one end emerged an arced blade, forming a spear. "You ready to fight?"

"Hell yeah," Locke confirmed, drawing his dagger. Turning to Flare Dancer; "Stay here."

To the chocobo riders, Edgar called, "Circle around us, we'll call you when we're clear!"

To her astonishment, the two of them leapt off the cart towards the gaining armours. With incredible fortune, they managed to land rolling beneath the raised foot of each mech, and both of them quickly swiped at the grounded leg of each mech, fraying wires within. The next step of the mechs had the foot landing sideways, knocking each of the machines sideways; both of their pilots fell to the ground as the wagon quickly arced around to circle them.

One of the pilots quickly reached into the cockpit of his mech, grabbing a rifle that he quickly tossed to his compatriot before running hands over the interface. The gunman took aim at the wagon and fired; though he had aimed for the wheel, the shot only slammed into the corner of the wagon, snapping a small piece of wood off.

And _wrapping the corner in ice_, leaving Flare Dancer screaming and pulling back.

The remaining pilot rushed for the legs of their mechs in time to see Edgar and Locke approaching. He quickly ducked under Edgar's spear sweep, edged away from Locke's knife such that it cut into his sleeve, and leapt away as the gunman turned around. He still had his aim on the cart, but Locke and Edgar had to leap away as his sweep almost got them; he fired again, and this one hit true, slamming into the axle of the cart and freezing it in place.

Flare Dancer felt the cart grinding and yelled to the driver; "The back wheels are lost! Bring it to a stop!"

As the men brought their chocobos to halt, she quickly leapt off, landing with a roll and dashing towards the fallen mechs. The gunman noticed; with a grin, he raised his rifle again.

Edgar and Locke exchanged glances and nodded.

"Works for you?"

"What do you think?"

Locke quickly arced his foot around and kicked the gunman's rifle earthward as he pulled the trigger. The round slammed into the sand, casting a layer of ice beneath the treasure hunter's feet - which were rapidly _changing_, his shoes being torn open as the flesh within each arced into a _pair of edges_. The flesh on his elbow protruded, arcing into a hook as he spun around and slashed at the man's arm with his dagger; the hooked edge grabbed the trigger guard, and Locke's continued spin yanked it out of the Imperial's grasp, leaving him unarmed.

Edgar lashed his elbows back, causing a series of _spikes_ to lash out from across his arms - and prompting Flare Dancer to yelp. Both hands grasped his spear as he crouched low, more spikes tearing out through his leggings. He leapt into the air, his legs appearing to _elongate_ as he soared skyward; and the man who was tending the mechs' damage only just leapt away before Edgar slammed his spear into the sand where the Imperial had been just moments before.

The soldier swore. "This one'll run!" he shouted to his companion.

The gunman, still gripping his wounded arm, leapt away from a blade-footed kick from Locke, pressing a button on the repaired mech's console. The Magitek Armour started to right itself, and he leapt into the seat as it rose up, standing high over their opponents as he reached in and grabbed a handgun. Edgar made to leap again, but the pilot only fired the weapon; only Locke's quick tackle stopped him from falling victim to the blaze of flames that seared the sand where he had been.

"Get Terra back to the cart," Edgar muttered, righting himself.

Flare Dancer was still watching them with astonishment as Locke dashed towards her, his feet bladed. "Come on!" he insisted.

"Wait- wait a second," she protested. "What is-?"

"You're gonna want to get clear," Locke cut her off.

With a swift movement, he lifted the dancer in his arms and raced across the sand, his feet accelerating him faster than a normal pace could do, leaving her to watch as Edgar leapt skyward. The Imperial soldiers could do nothing but watch as, at the peak of his jump, he surged earthward, slamming his spear into the control console for the standing Magitek Armour. Voltage began to raze the suit, and Edgar quickly kicked the man out of the cockpit and leapt into the air once more, landing not far from the wagon as Locke approached it.

The treasure hunter set Flare Dancer inside, swiping his feet at the ice that had coated the axle. Once it was clear, he and Edgar leapt inside again, and the men quickly spurred their chocobos to dash.

Flare Dancer quickly pulled herself upright. "Wait a minute!" she insisted. "What just happened back there?"

Edgar rolled his shoulders, the spikes retracting into his arms. "You're not seriously going to tell me you've never seen a monstrel before?" he asked. "Not even familiarity?"

"A _what_?" Flare Dancer protested. "You two are _monsters_?"

Locke threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, and you want to act like you're not?" he inquired. "The way you were sucking flames at the castle? You're a damn yoko!" He slipped his knife into its sheath and grabbed the rifle off the hook in his elbow, tossing it into the sand.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Flare Dancer protested. "I'm not-"

"You told me you can't remember anything," Locke snapped. "So let me educate you and jog your memory."

"No!" the dancer cried. "You can't just tell me that-"

Edgar accepted something from one of the chocobo riders and aimed it at her. A wicked flash of light emerged from it, causing Terra to pull away as her vision went white. The cart lurched while she was blinded, and she felt herself part from its surface and land ass-first on the sand, rolling across its surface. When she could see again, Locke's bladed feet were right up on her vision, and she looked up to see him standing there with his arms crossed, one of his elbows still hooked.

"Look, I don't like treating you like this," he insisted. "You don't remember worth a damn, and given you were controlled by the Empire I don't blame you for having this kind of attitude ingrained in you. But you need to cut it out if you want us to lend you a hand."

Flare Dancer managed to rise to a sitting position, pulling away. "What are you-"

Locke cracked his knuckles, causing the fingers of his right hand to arc into hooks. "The three of us are all monsters," he insisted, "whether you like it or not. And a monster's actions are dictated by only two limitations - _capability_, and _incapability_."

He dug his unhooked hand into his pocket, drawing out what looked like a coin purse.

"Terra Branford, you're a monster. If you accept this fact, then you'll have to choose whether you are _capable_ of getting over what the Imperials taught you and being so hateful against _yourself_..."

His hooked hand swept forward, snatching the coin purse out of the way; when he had finished his sweep, it was gone from his hand.

"...or _incapable_."

Flare Dancer watched as he stepped away, gripping one ankle like an ice skater who was getting sore from his skates. "Meanwhile, there's me," he insisted. "I am _capable_ of leaving you here for the Imperial troops and Kefka Palazzo to come and find you." With a turn, he added, "_However_, I am _incapable_ of sleeping at night after leaving a girl to suffer at Imperial hands when I had the chance to avoid it."

The way he spoke seemed to imply experience rather than hypothesis.

At this point, he stepped forward, holding out his right hand.

"A monstrel is offering you help."

The fishhooks retreated into his fingers, leaving the nimble hands that Terra had first met.

"Are you capable, or incapable, of accepting it?"

* * *

Draco: Hoo, boy, this is a lengthy one. About time we got to the monstrous elements.


	10. Katabasis

Draco: Blades of Bhuni, I need to start VI-ing again. Considering getting the mobile version; can anyone tell me whether it's actually worth it? Like, beyond just graphical updates, I mean. Did they add anything, or is it basically a polished version of the GBA port?

I'm not a hundred percent sure (as a result of the above), but I don't think that the song of which this chapter title's origin is a remix PULSE that's a long confusing statement. Egh. Epitaph. That track wasn't used nice. I don't think. Doesn't matter. Let go of your preconceived notions. "Katabasis" refers to a journey downhill. I know, that doesn't sound all too nice either. _No one is dying._ That's the point.

**NEW EDIT:** If you're coming here rereading, this is a different dance scene and associated links than you remember. The previous song was both unfitting and the only one I could do a duet for, and I need the duet for later.

www*.*youtube*.*com*/*w*a*t*c*h*?*v*=*r*y*L*-*W*O**-*z*V*2*4 | Hit play when I bring in the music, but this is the Dance Shot ver., so you might watch it through once first, and it's got the translation on-screen (which I couldn't make work with the writing). Your attention should be on ones who start in the back. I start deviating from the video just before the third chorus. Here's the vocal layout: project*hello*.*com*/*c-ute*/*heavensingle*.*h*t*m*l | **END NEW EDIT**

For non veterans of my singing scenes, double quotations ""as such"" refer to two people singing. I apologize profusely if my writing of this performance is... lacking. I haven't done this before. I usually try to keep it as vague as possible, but that didn't quite do the song justice, and what's more, I needed a proper dance for story reasons. I fear the results are not as well as they could be.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Katabasis**

Edgar's men drew the cart to a stop at the entrance to a small cave. Still mulling over Locke's words, Terra pulled herself off the cart as the king and treasure hunter did the same. The men quickly directed their chocobos to take off in another direction entirely.

"What are they... doing?" the dancer asked.

"Decoy," Locke explained, slipping a fresh pair of shoes over his no-longer-bladed feet. "Hopefully, the Imperials will go after them thinking we're still on the cart. At worst, they'll divide their troops, send half after them and half in here."

Edgar propped his crossbow over his shoulder. "You didn't have anything to do with that punk with the keychain full of lockpicks, did you?" he ask.

Locke huffed as Edgar led him and Terra inside. "He said he'd found an old Imperial fortune just outside of town and needed someone with nimble fingers to get inside," he explained. "Arvis called me before I could meet up with him."

"They found him in the town office," Edgar reprimanded.

"Yeah, your desert patrols told me the same thing," Locke admitted. "Looks like he was lying. Shocker." There was a thick drape of sarcasm on his voice."

"You've done business with him before?"

"No, but I've played Chronobind with him and he cheats like crazy."

"I fail to see how a thief's gambling behaviour is an indicator of their trustworthiness."

"It's not. It just doesn't give me a reason to be surprised."

"You didn't even flinch when I called you a thief."

"You called _him_ a thief."

"Hypocrite."

"Philanderer."

Terra coughed lightly to get their attention; Edgar lowered his crossbow from his shoulder as his and Locke's conversation fell to a halt. "Sorry about that," he admitted. "You're... wondering where we're headed?"

"Figaro," Terra guessed. "The town. Is there something... you want to do, there?"

"I just figured you could use the security," Edgar admitted. "Castle Figaro isn't exactly... _comfortable_ when it's underground. But if I understand correctly, Narshe isn't willing to keep you safe. South Figaro will. We just keep quiet about _why_ the Empire is after you and everything will be fine. I'll even buy us a round of drinks. Do you drink?"

Terra lowered her gaze.

"..._Can_ you drink?" Locke asked.

"I think so," Terra murmured. "It's just... I'm not sure if I..."

Locke clicked his tongue. "I get it. There might be some painful memories involved, except that you don't _have_ those memories, and so you can't be sure. But at the same time, you don't want to risk repeating them."

Terra nodded.

Edgar hummed. "You said you recognized Kefka, right?" he asked. "Not in concrete terms, but..."

"Yes," Terra confirmed. "He just... scared me. I feel like he's done... _something..._ to me."

"Tell you what," Edgar explained. "The Empire _loves_ Black Cauldron. It's the only thing about Kefka that makes sense. When we get to South Figaro, I'll pour you a glass, you can check the bottle, smell the drink, take a sip to sample the taste. If anything feels familiar - _bad_ familiar - you can put the drink down and I won't think any less of you. If it doesn't, we can work from there."

"Alright..."

+x+x+x+

South Figaro was definitely a friendly enough place to be. No one bat an eye at Terra - which if nothing else told Locke that she had never been here with the Empire before - and the town was peaceful enough that she wasn't looking around worriedly the whole time. The sun was beginning to set as the trio arrived in town; Edgar booked a room at the inn before leading Terra and Locke to the pub, where the bartender looked happy to see him. A few pleasantries were exchanged; then they got to business.

"I'll take a pit of Hellfire tequila," Locke replied.

Edgar laughed at that. "Megaflare mix," he requested. "Tsunami size, rim it with powdered Odin herbs. And for the lady here, a shot of Black Cauldron."

The bartender raised an eyebrow. "One shot?"

"Just to start," Locke insisted.

The questions stopped there; Locke's drink was poured, and Edgar's mixed to perfection. Once that was all complete, he poured a small glass full of whiskey and set it in front of Terra, who picked it up hesitantly.

"Hey, barman!" The voice came from the other end of the bar, and the tender quickly took off, leaving the dancer, treasure hunter, and machinist alone as Terra raised the glass before her.

"Anything?" Locke asked.

Hesitantly, Terra held the drink to her nose, the scent stinging her nostrils but not giving her any sense of uneasiness. The glass was set against her lips, and her tongue flicked out to sample the flavour.

A long quiet.

"Nothing," Terra murmured, after which she proceeded to down the drink in one go.

The barman came back at this point. "Anything else?"

"Let's take it up a notch," Edgar insisted. "Get her a Final Eclipse."

Locke turned to Edgar with a look that said 'are you serious' in twelve languages. "Edgar..."

Terra shook her head. "I'll be fine," she insisted as the bartender began to mix. "Don't worry."

+x+x+x+

"Am I allowed to worry, now?"

The Final Eclipse was a mixed drink named after the myth of Zodiark, Keeper of Precepts. Most of the people who drank it were unconscious or incoherent by the time they drained the glass; Edgar would later admit that he had ordered it for Terra hoping that she would pass out and they could just call it a night.

Terra had proceeded to drink her way through _six_ Final Eclipses, three Breach Blast-size Megaflare mixes, and a bottle of straight Angel Feathers wine. She was currently halfway through a second bottle, and though her words were somewhat... difficult to understand, she showed no signs of slowing down nor approaching unconsciousness. The bartender was himself rather impressed (and worried) to see a newcomer (of lithe figure no less) to be drinking so much so easily, and Edgar and Locke had been trying to cut her off, to no avail.

Soon enough, some bruiser in a punk shirt without sleeves slid up to the bar at her side while Locke was using the facilities. "Well, hello there, greenie," he mused, a large mug of Earthen Fury in his other hand. "You up to something?"

Terra turned to face him for a moment, her eyes half-lidded. Edgar's best guess was that she found something familiar about his behaviour, for after a moment's contemplation she grabbed Locke's half-glass of Hellfire and cast it into his eyes. "Not interested," she reprimanded.

The bruiser didn't take that kindly, coughing earthward and glaring at her. "That wasn't very nice, girlie," he protested.

A moment passed; then Terra turned to Edgar and reached forward. Fearing she was going to do something to deter his interests, the king pulled away (for all his preferences, he wasn't eager to take advantage of a lady's intoxication), trying to stay her hand. He was relieved when Terra simply reached for the handle of the crossbow hooked over his back; less so when she proceeded to drive it into the bruiser's leg. The bow of his weapon was not exactly designed for striking, but it was nonetheless enough to get him to skid away, slamming his drink against the bar.

"What the hell?" he asked. "You trying to-?"

"Back off, man."

The stranger turned to see Locke standing there. His left hand was hooked on his knife, still strapped at his waist; the moment he had the bruiser's attention, the treasure hunter stepped forward, taking his prior seat - and finding his glass of Hellfire empty.

The bruiser huffed, storming off out the bar.

"Can I have my crossbow back?" Edgar asked.

Terra murmured something about apes and fistfighters before holding out the weapon to him and raising her bottle to her lips.

Not long after the stranger had taken off, the trio were approached by a pair of women who were well-known at the bar to dance and sing as the night grew long. One was dressed all in powerful red, with gold bracelets dangling off her wrists and a gold ring drawing her hair into a tail, whilst the other was adorned in wise blue, with gold bands holding detached sleeves to her arms.

"Excuse me, miss?" the one in blue asked, causing Terra to turn. "Might I ask your name?"

"...Terra," the flare dancer replied.

The one in red smiled. "Terra, thanks for shutting that musclehead up."

Edgar blinked. "Is he a usual problem?"

"You're kidding, right?" the red dancer asked. "That's Kakusu Darke. He's a preyer. He's always leering over some chick after she's had a couple drinks."

"Rarely have any of his targets the presence of mind to drive him off," the blue dancer explained. "Terra is the first one to actively rebuff him, rather than remain quiet and hope he'll leave."

"He never does," the red muttered angrily. "I swear he's bribed the inn owner to keep his mouth shut about that room he books every night."

Edgar turned back to his drink. "I'll have to speak with him about that," he muttered, quiet enough that the girls didn't hear."

Terra looked between the two girls, curious. "Your... names?" she asked slowly.

Both of the dancers chuckled lightly. "Call me Fire," insisted the red one.

"And I'm Love," the blue one added. "Terra, would you like to dance with us?"

Locke had a fresh pit of Hellfire in his hand; Love's comment caused him to spew a mouthful back into his glass, and he set it down when he broke into a coughing fit.

"Oh, shut up, pickpocket," Fire insisted.

"Treasure hunter," Edgar corrected.

"Whatever."

Terra lowered her gaze, contemplating; then she nodded, allowing Love to help her to her feet.

"Wait a moment," Locke coughed, raising a hand towards them. As Fire turned to him again, he put on his sternest face and asked, "You're not gonna be taking her anywhere, are you?"

"Don't worry," Love assured her. "We just need to prepare. An hour, at most. After that, we'll be on the stage the whole time. A couple dances with..." Here she turned to Terra. "Do you have any moniker we could use as a stage name? We don't want the wolf-whistlers to have your real name."

Terra looked worried; there were very real dangers to spreading her real name around. She glanced at Edgar, who gave it a moment's thought.

"Swords," he mused. "Call her Swords."

"I like it," Fire admitted. "Anyways, yeah. A couple dances with Swords, and we'll bring her right back. If she wants to come with us after the fact, she can say so in front of you guys."

Locke softened, sitting back down and ordering a fresh pit of Hellfire. As Love and Fire led Terra off, Love asked one last question of her.

"Be honest with me. How comfortable are you... _dancing_?"

+x+x+x+

Newcomers are usually introduced to South Figaro's pub with the warning "don't freak out when the lights go down, and hold still until things start lighting back up again".

So Locke was somewhat confused when the lights went out, about an hour after Terra had left to prepare for the dance, and Edgar dragged him from his seat. He managed to keep a hold on his drink as the machinist dragged him through the pub, eventually setting him onto a (very comfortable) seat in a location he could not see again. Upon hearing the king take a seat next to him, the treasure hunter quickly and quietly protested, "What the hell, Edgar?"

"This is the best seat in the house," the king insisted, his voice strangely muffled. "Keep quiet."

There was a long moment of silence; Locke sunk into his seat and had his glass raised to his lips when a voice called through the darkness of the bar.

"Hey there, South Figaro!"

The call was met with a familiar roar as a spotlight lit up in the center of the stage, displaying a young-looking girl in rather... _courageous_ green garments with her hair done up in twintails, a headset mic dangling near her mouth. Locke just about lost his drink again upon realizing he and Edgar were sitting right up against the stage. "Tonight, we're gonna do things a little differently. We always got Fire and Love flying around with their special agility - let me have a show of hands for who's interested in trilogy!"

The sound of a barfull of feet hitting the ground heralded the cheer of a good few dozen men raising their hands and glasses; Locke preemptively threw a hand over his head before he realized he and Edgar were in a pair of ball chairs that seemed to be specifically designed to avoid stray drinks.

"Excellent!" the girl in green called. "Then we got a special performance for everyone!"

The lights went out, and her voice called into the darkness again; "Let's see what happens when Swords start dancin'!"

The loveliest melody began to flow out of the darkness, and light slowly, gently returned, revealing the three of them there - all three of them stood with their heads bowed, their hands low at their sides. Love stood in the center, with Terra to her right and Fire to her left; as the light tune began to fade, Locke could have sworn he saw the smallest of flames appear just past each of their fingers, and the three of them trailed their hands as though to trace falling stars, Fire and Love singing at once:

""_Nagareboshi, la lalalalalalala  
Lalalalalalalala..._""

The three of them swiftly drew their hands up their sides, arcing their arms as the music flowed - each her own way.

""_La lalalala la lalalalala  
La lalalala la la la la la..._""

As the tune began to fade out, each of them held her right arm out, then her left, before arcing them towards the crowd and skyward before bringing them low again.

A _heavy_ beat kicked in, and the girls lashed their hands skyward and brought them back down, each perching one hand on her cheek and the other under her arm to support it.

""_Nagareboshi  
__negai wo komereba  
__Kimi ni tsutawaru no_""

Their arms went up and down about them before one was drawn over their heads, their bodies moving tauntingly. They perched with their elbows on their palms again, but did not connect the raised hand with their face as they swept around in pose.

""_K__ono machi wa kodoku na hodo  
Keshiki ni tokekondeku_""_  
_

Each of them swept her arms out and down at her side before nodding fiercely enough to send her hair about her face - it was most noticeable with Love's unbound blue locks. Again did they bring their arms skyward and down again.

"""_Namidaboshi_"""_  
_""_H__oho ni nagareteru  
Natashi no namida yo  
Kuyashikute nakun janai  
Ikiteru akashinanda yo_""_  
_

Here they reached to the crowd with both arms and framed their own faces with their hands; then they swept their hands down their bodies before perching with one hand on her hip and the other out to the side, and Love sang on her own.

"_M__une wo iyasu you na kono -melody-_"

They each drew their set hands towards the other; then the hand newly arrived drew back, the other following, so they turned the other way, pointing yonder once with each hand before sweeping their hands side to side. Love and Fire began to sing alternately as the three girls held one finger raised towards the crowd, then raised another with the other hand to meet it and bounced them against one another.

"_Hitori_" "_Hitori_"  
"_Dakedo_" "_Dakedo_"  
"_Naze ka_"  
"_Naze ka_" ""_hitori janai you na_""

They drew one hand forward and skyward, and then the other, before lashing their hands to each side with the beat, drawing them together before themselves, raising the joined hands before their faces, and parting them again.

""_Kibun ni nareru~_""

They swept one hand before themselves, then up and down, as the line flowed; then the beat struck out, and with it, the girls brought their hands to either side of their head, joined them to block their faces, raised one hand skyward, and traced a thunderbolt in the air before them. With that hand of lightning, each girl traced her face, as though wiping a tear, before lashing it to the side.

"""_Kanashiki -heaven- __kokoro ga kawaku kedo_"""

They each turned their body slightly, kicking back and then swinging their arm that way, twice, before straightening their pose, reaching up, and pointing their arms crossed towards the crowd; then each girl turned the other way, arms spread, and drew her hands close to her chest, leaving her elbows out.

""_T__atta hitotsu yume ga aru dake de  
__W__atashi wa sore de juubun_""

With the beat, they turned the other way, then each held one hand forward, which quickly was swept up and then back down, slashed to each side, and drawn close as they angled their hands like tipping scales. Their arms met like an angled _T_ at their side, before they repeated the kicks, swings, and cross-point.

"""-_Seventh heaven- __itsuka wa tadoritsuku_"""

Again did they hold their arms out, turn with their hands to their chests, and hold their hands forward, but this time they swept to the elbow-to-palm posture, pointing at themselves rather than holding their hands to their faces.

""_K__ono hatenaki sora wo yukeba mayou_""

Then their arms swept across each other before connecting with their knees as they bent low, drawing them out and twisting their bodies tauntingly with skyward sweeps of their hands.

""_K__oto mo aru darou~_""

Now Fire and Terra drew closer to Love, forming a trigram with the blunette at the point as the music kicked to a heavy-beat instrumental. They swept their hands upward, then held their hands against their bodies, striking against themselves with the beat of the music before rotating; with Terra at the point, they wound their hands above their head and reached forward in an arc; then they turned again, and as Fire was at the point they traced a triangle in the air before holding a palm out to the crowd and shaking their bodies; then they set their hands against one another and swept their upper bodies around before drawing a thunderbolt in the air before them, as before. Each of them raised one hand to trace another falling star as they began to sing again;

"""_Nagareboshi_"""  
""_T__okai ja mienai  
Genjitsu no naka de_""_  
_

One hand was raised to each forehead; then Terra and Love reached towards Fire as she reached towards the crowd. They all parted their arms as though welcoming as they stepped away from the tight trigram, giving them room with which to dance.

""_Ko__nya dake hitori janai  
Sonna kanji ga shiteru_""

Each of the girls raised one hand, then drew her hands to her chest and swept them out before lashing her head forward again so her hair would dance around her face. Without being so close to one another, they once again lashed their hands skyward and perched with one hand on each face, the elbow caught in the opposite palm, bodies flowing.

"""_T__ameiki de_"""  
""_Kotoba ni naranai  
S__hunkan mo aru ga_""

They each crossed their arms briefly before lashing their hands up and down at their sides and drawing one arm across their foreheads. Elbow in the palm, just aside their faces, they swept their bodies around twice.

""_Samishikute furueteita  
Ano goro ga natsukashii na_""

Reach with both to the crowd, then frame the face; hands flow down the flesh to taunt the eyes, then perch one at the hip and reach the other to the side; now Fire sang alone.

"_T__ooi kako nante dou demo ii_"

Draw together, draw away, point twice, and sweep; then each girl raised a single finger on one hand, and then the other, bouncing them against each other as Fire and Love called out alternately;

"_Asu ni_" "_Asu ni_"  
"_Nareba_" "_Nareba_"  
"_Kitto_"  
"_Kitto_" ""_m__abushii hikari_""

One hand out, and up, and the other; hands extended to either side, drawn together, wrap the face, and part.

""_Kono tenihairu~_""

Before the face, up and around; then with the beat, hands raised to either side of the head, mask the face with both hands, and one hand heavenward to trace a thunderbolt before self. Draw a tear from the face and lash it to the side.

"""_Kanashiki -heaven- i__tanda tsubasa demo_"""

Kick, swing, kick, swing; reach up with one, then the other, and point crossed towards the crowd. Angle, spread the arms, then draw them close to the chest with the elbows out.

""_S__ore ga kanau koto wo shinjinakya  
Watashi no imi ga nai_""

Turn away, reach one hand forward, up, down, slash to either side, scales tip down the flesh before meeting perpendicular to one side.

"""_-Seventh heaven- a__oi kono hoshi kara_"""

Again did each girl kick twice between swings of her arm before arcing her hands up and pointing them to the crowd, then turn her body just enough to spread her arms and then draw them close.

""_Tooki -goal- mezasu dake sa suki na_""

Turn away, reach out; then each girl set her elbow against the palm with a finger aimed at herself as her body swung, before sweeping the arms against each other and drawing low to the earth.

""_K__oto nara tsuzuku~_""

The break was longer this time, an extensive sequence of notes on something stringed; each girl swept an arm over her head and low to the ground at a kneel and then a rise before perching it on her hip, casting her hair about, and lashing her arms skyward, earthward, and to the sides. The girls traced patterns in the air before them before raising one hand to each chin and drawing the gaze in the other direction; then they all raised their hands heavenward again and let them arc low to their sides.

Their feet drew them into spins towards one another, shifting to a trigram with Terra pointing back; Fire and Love locked their arms together, and the newcomer ducked drew herself low beneath them so that she was at point towards the crowd. Her hands went up in a light hop before she set one fist against the stage, and Love and Fire did the same the moment she was still; then they rose again, framing their faces with their hands.

The lights dimmed, though they did not go out entirely, as Fire and Love drew closer behind Terra and fell still in mirror poses, their arms angled parallel to their own and perpendicular to the other's; Terra, meanwhile, lowered her hands to her sides with her fingers spread, and as the break ended, Locke was surprised to hear _Terra_ singing, her voice unaccompanied.

"_Kanashiki -heaven- __kokoro ga kawaku kedo_""

Minute flames ignited in the air just past either of her fingertips, lighting with the beat; the index and middle fingers of her right hand, then her left, and then the ring and little fingers of her left, then her.

"_T__atta hitotsu yume ga aru dake de  
Watashi wa sore de juubun_""

Love and Fire had come up close to Terra as she finished the line, and Fire gave a wordless cheer as Terra raised her hands. The lights grew brighter again, and the flames in Terra's hands intensified; the flare dancer hurled her blazes, causing them to whirl around Fire and Love as they crossed their arms before themselves and swept about; though they joined her in song again for a line, Terra's voice was the strongest of the three.

_"""-Seventh heaven- __itsuka wa tadoritsuku_"""

The three of them performed the kick-and-swing once again, the flames Terra had cast around the professionals flowing with the movements of their arms; then they raised their arms to either side of their heads once again, and the blazes resumed circling them as they crossed their arms and pointed to the crowd. At this point, Terra spun once on her heel.

"_K__ono hatenaki sora wo yukebu mayou..._"

Fire, and then Love, performed the same spin as the beat marked them, before the three of them spun in the other direction all at once. The flames flew back to Terra as Love and Fire met their backs behind her, and the flare dancer held her hands just below the blazes.

"_K__oto mo aru darou~_"

The two pulled away from behind her again as she let the flames whirl around all three of them, in opposing directions. Hands skyward, strike to the beat; wind above, lash up and to either side, reach forward in an arc; trace a triangle, palm to the crowd and shake; then set the hands against one another and draw the thunderbolt. Fire and Love came closer to Terra, back-to-back-to-back; the flames vanished, and the three of them raised their hands, each tracing another falling star above them as they began to sing as one, the track much slower.

"""_Nagareboshi __negai wo komereba  
Kimi ni tsutawaru no_"""

Their hands slowly pushed a palm outward; then Terra set her hand against her chest, closing her eyes and bowing her head as Fire and Love turned towards one another behind her.

"""_Kono machi wa  
Kodoku dakedo  
Ki__mi to deaeta machi dakara~_"""

As the music faded, Terra raised one hand forward, palm skyward, and the other skyward, palm forward, as Fire and Love turned towards one another, their faces hidden by Terra's back; and the crowd went _berserk_.

It was then that a shot of Black Cauldron and five of the strongest drinks Figaro could serve kicked in, and as the lights went dark Terra could be seen falling to one knee.

+x+x+x+

"Where the hell did you learn to dance like that?"

With the performance over, Locke decided they ought head back to the inn; he and Edgar both had one of Terra's arms over their shoulders. The dancing seemed to have taken all of the stamina Terra was putting to use surviving her drinks - and now that the drinks had settled, she could hardly walk of her own volition.

At Edgar's question, Terra's expression darkened as much as she could in her state; the machinist realized this, and fell quiet. "Sorry," he insisted. "That was stupid and rude. I'm sorry."

"Those girls," Locke mused. "The ones you were dancing with. They didn't even flinch when you did that fire-spin thing. Are they...?"

The amnesiac mumbled something about puppets and wires, but that was all he could make out.

"Never mind," the treasure hunter insisted. "If you can remember in the morning, I'll ask you then."

They finally arrived at the inn; the receptionist recognized Edgar, and directed him to the room he had booked. He and Locke managed to get Terra inside, and laid her down on one of the beds. A brief moment of uncertainty; then Terra simply gripped the covers and dragged them over herself, falling asleep without so much as removing her shoes.

"There's only two beds in here," Locke observed accusingly, turning to Edgar.

"Anything bigger _or_ smaller was booked full," the machinist insisted. "If you don't believe me, then I'll take the floor tonight."

Locke rolled his eyes. "You're the one who recommended drinks," he muttered, clambering into the remaining bed and leaving Edgar to sort out his own sleeping accommodations.

"They never believe my misfortune..."

* * *

Draco: UGH. **NEW EDIT** I can never remember if the site is "Hello! Project" or "Project Hello!". Things kept messing up while I was writing this dance scene. Funny little story, I was looking for a song for this chapter and on all of the ℃-ute videos I watched, I said "Damn it, I can't trio this!" After having given up and used the one I was going to duet, I watched them all again to find a replacement duet and I realized "On second thought, I can trio most of these if I try hard enough, but I can't _duet_ these!" Then I found one wherein I said "I can duet this _and_ I can trio this_ and_ it won't be hard to do so _but I can't **write** this many layers of vocals_ (and there's not supposed to be that many vocalists in either one)." To be fair, I _could_ have done this one as a duet fairly easily, but the vocalists (duet) don't move in the context I want to dance a duet in. **END NEW EDIT**

For the perforamnce above: Assume that no singular vocals are Terra until both candles are lit. The attentive ones will note where I did triple quotations rather than doubles - yes, Terra is the third vocalist, and no, none of those doubles are meant to be triples or vice versa.

Just figured I should get _something_ out before tomorrow because I'm already struggling in working on my fics after getting hooked on _Tales of Symphonia_ and I figured I should get something through while I'm in this funk of my body not wanting to play. With a birthday coming tomorrow, I don't want to risk getting sidetracked by a present. Here's hoping for Final Fantasy Type-0.


	11. A Fistful of Nickels

Draco: Nothing about this makes sense. I've been playing Zelda games and I'm getting inspired to work on my VI-er fic. What is going on.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**A Fistful of Nickels**

Terra woke up feeling like the earth was shaking. It took her to realize it was just her head attacking itself. This was a different sensation of fire than she had felt when she had woken at Arvis' home in Narhse; there, her body had refused to act against the pain she felt. Now, her flesh obeyed the commands of her mind; it was simply that her mind was in little condition to be issuing those commands. There was a blinding light from above (at least she assumed it was above) burning into her eyes.

Her eyes were _closed_.

A groan escaped her lips with relative ease as she tried to fight through the shine and let her eyelids part. A chuckle bored into her ears like a drill, causing her to writhe in her bed with something between a whine and a curse.

"So, the kitsune wakes."

The voice was Locke's. Terra raised a hand over her eyes to lower the intesity of the light as she forced the open, then slowly pulled it away as she turned to see the treasure hunter sitting on a stool next to a table in the corner, turning his knife in hand. "What...?"

Locke smirked as he got to his feet, careful not to make too much noise. With his voice much quieter now that he had Terra's attention, he mused, "I don't know what Edgar was thinking, letting you have that much without water in between. You drank enough to tranquillize a Cyclops."

Terra shook her head. The sound of her hair brushing against the pillow ripped into the ear on that side and caused her to jerk upright. "No," she forced out. "What... did you... call me?"

"Kitsune," Locke repeated slowly. "It's another name for yoko that's usually preferred by females."

The word 'yoko' caused Terra to lower her gaze again, remembering when Locke had called her that on their way out of Figaro.

"Those... bad memories... you mentioned... on our way... to the city?"

Locke raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"I have them now," Terra murmured, drawing her legs close to her chest.

"You mean... your memory's come back?" Locke asked.

Terra lowered her head. "Just... pieces," she murmured. "A party. A dark corner. A bottle of... something. And... that commander... that was at the castle." She closed her eyes. "That clown... laughing at me. Upside-down."

Locke sighed.

The door was thrown open, slamming into the wall it was connected to, and someone flicked the lights on - the illumination that had tormented Terra had in fact been the smallest of flames in the fireplace. Sound and light of such intensity caused Terra to recoil, falling against a pillow which she quickly grabbed and turned to pressed into her ear; Locke turned to the door and threw his knife as Edgar stepped in. With a loud voice, the king called, "Morning, sleeping beau-"

The knife's handle connected with his shoulder, and he fell quiet as the blade clattered to the floor.

"Shut. Up." Locke protested, his voice quiet.

"If your blade had been turned the right way, you could've taken my shoulder out," Edgar reprimanded, although much quieter this time.

Locke rolled his eyes. "I was aiming for the wall a meter away. Throwing a knife isn't easy." Pointing at Terra; "Do you have any idea what kind of hangover six Final Eclipses will give someone?"

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "I have enough trouble finishing _one_," he admitted.

"Exactly," Locke mused. "Shut up, turn the lights off."

The king reached for the switch, dimming the room. Slowly, Terra pulled herself out from under the pillow. "Do you... have anything... to help this?"

"A hangover? You're kidding." Edgar shook his head. "The last time I tried to come up with something to cure a hangover, my Bioblaster exploded in the basement. It took weeks to pump the noxious gas out. The only reliable cure for a hangover is time and water. A _lot_ of water."

"Isn't that going to stop me from using my fire?" Terra murmured.

The king and Locke exchanged nervous glances at that misconception. "Here," Locke insisted, reaching for the table at the corner. "I put this together. First thing I do when I wake up with a hangover is have someone put one of these together."

Terra glanced at the glass he was holding. "Is that... milk?" she asked hesitantly.

"Milk, sugar, cocoa, Odin herbs, thyme, rosemary, sage, and parsley," Locke summed up. "Always gets me moving."

Edgar gave him a look. "I don't know that that's such a-"

His words fell on deaf ears. Terra, desperate to be rid of her hellious condition, grabbed the glass, put it to her mouth, and upturned it. The glass was empty in the span of three seconds, the drink passing through her mouth with such haste that only the last few drops actually registered on her taste buds. A moment passed; then the glass fell to the floor, shattering beside the bed.

"Turn right out the door," Locke instructed, "end of the hall."

Terra shot to her feet, shoving Edgar aside effortlessly and taking off in the direction Locke had indicated. Edgar, now on the floor on the other side of the room, now indignantly got to his feet and glared at the treasure hunter.

"You did that on purpose."

"The disgusting taste _inevitably_ causes me to rush to the nearest bathroom so I don't throw up all over myself," Locke explained. "By the time I can actually think past 'am I about to vomit', I'm usually more or less capable of action."

The footsteps were returning. The two men turned towards the door as Terra stormed back in, surging towards the one who had given her that concoction. Locke didn't even have time to inquire with an incredulous "Done already?" before she slammed the back of her hand into his face - and _minute flames_ burst from the connection point, petering out in the air.

Locke turned back towards her. "If you can't control your fire," he observed, "you're probably better off with a little more bed rest before we try doing anything today."

Terra looked like she was about to say something. Her body disagreed with her, and she raised the hand he had struck him with to her mouth, nearly doubling over. After a few moments, she managed to right herself, close her eyes, and pull her hand away from her mouth; a shaky breath passed between lips hardly a millimetre apart.

Then she struck him with the _palm_ of that hand. This time, there were no flames.

"Better," he mused.

+x+x+x+

A few hours after Terra had consumed Locke's mystery milk concoction, a man from South Figaro was in the cave that lay between the town and the desert. This was Kakusu Darke, the same preyer that had been talking with Terra the previous night. His intention was to find Figaro Castle and kick someone's ass - anyone in South Figaro knew King Edgar's tools when they saw one, and that crossbow was not a normal three-minute winder.

When he didn't get that far, he would realize that he had _no idea_ what he thought he was going to do when he got to the castle.

He was at the entrance to the cave when he caught sight of someone in foolish garb - six different colours, a collar bigger than some of the plates Darke had eaten off of, and tights that didn't leave anything to the imagination. He was facing away and barking at someone; with a roll of his eyes, Darke stormed forward. "Oi, clown!"

The owner of the garments turned towards him, revealing a painted face with a bright red smile around a confused twist. "Huh?" he asked. "Who are you?"

"You seen a punk with the King's tech around here?" he demanded. "I want a word with the supplier."

The 'clown' angled his body to one side and his head to the other as he raised an eyebrow. "Supplier?" Realization dawned on his face, and he perched with his legs crossed and a finger raised. "Oh! You..." Here he pointed his finger at the guy as he parted his legs, "have met someone with a crossbow!"

"Yeah, the jackass is in South Figaro," Darke mused. "What's it matter?"

In response, the clown snapped his fingers.

The gathering of energy caused Darke to turn to see a massive mechanical figure off to one side. At the front was a bright, shining portion that was glowing with blue light, and Darke realized that it was _not_ something he wanted to be in front of.

He quickly leapt back into the cave as a burst of blue energy ripped from the machine and _consumed the entrance to the cave in ice_.

"What the hell?!" The ice was less a wall and more an assortment of spikes, but it still stopped him from getting back out - or the others from getting in. "What was...?"

"What, you never seen Magitek Armour before?" the clown's voice asked.

Darke's eyes widened. "Magitek Ar- You punks are Imperials!"

A snap of fingers again. "Enough playing around," the clown mused. "Set it to burn and crank the power."

"You assholes are _not_ coming anywhere near Figaro!" Darke protested. "Even if you get through the cave, Nova ain't gonna let you-!"

His words ended there - as did his life - when flames ripped through the wall of ice like it was paper and vaporized him on the spot, giving him not so much as the chance to scream.

Kefka grinned. "Nova won't stop us," he promised. "He just makes it easier."

+x+x+x+

Terra, Locke, and Edgar were in Figaro's weapons shop. Although Terra's flare dancing certainly had its uses, throwing flames was not exactly something that should be done publicly, and the minute knives she still had strapped to her wrists were more or less an emergency measure for her escape from Narshe.

"I understand if you're kind of nervous, with a proper weapon," Locke admitted as Terra looked over a rack of swords, "but there's no real security like a blade in your hand. Just pick one that you're comfortable with."

Terra hesitantly reached out and took one of a row of swords that had a faint blue hue to the metal of the blade - it was about the length of her arm, and no broader. "What's this metal?" she asked, holding it before her and finding it lighter than she anticipated.

"Mythril," Locke mused. "Lightweight, but sturdy nonetheless. Stays sharp for a long time."

The observation caused Terra to glance at the rack of similarly-bladed knives before turning to Locke.

Locke knew the look. "I'm good," he mused, setting one hand over the knife sheathed at his hip. "So, you taking that blade?"

Terra swung the blade earthward once to sample; then she shook her head and set it back on the rack. She turned her gaze towards a different set of weapons, about a meter long and half a foot wide. "What about these?" she asked, stepping towards them.

"A greatsword is heavy," Locke warned. "Given you picked those knives, I think you're body's used to weapons that are-"

He fell quiet when Terra pulled a blade from the rack with no visible difficulty than she had the mythril sword.

"...light?"

Terra swung the blade earthward to test it. "I picked the knives... because there were two," Terra explained. "If you want me... to use a sword... I'll take this one."

Locke opened his mouth to protest.

And a huge _crash_ sounded from outside.

Terra turned, raising the blade before her single-handedly. Locke wanted to inquire how she was doing that, but he shut himself up; instead, he grabbed a sheath from the rack behind the greatswords and slid it over Terra's blade.

"That'll do. We got company."

He quickly rushed to the front desk. Edgar and the clerk both had looks of worry on their faces; without a word, Edgar reached into his pocket and slammed a couple bills to the table before he led Locke and Terra outside.

A familiar cackling laugh sounded from around them.

"Kefka," Edgar grumbled. "We've gotta get out of town."

"Where else are we gonna keep Terra safe?" Locke protested. "They came through the cave to the desert, and besides, you know the castle can't stay under the whole time." Before Edgar could protest; "Let's just head to the pub until we've got more information. Maybe Terra can hide out with the dancers."

+x+x+x+

The main area of the pub was empty - including the bartender - when the three of them stepped inside. No sooner had the taken seats at the bar than a pounding came from the other set of doors. A commanding voice roared, "Open up!"

"He's got a squadron," Edgar murmured. "Where's the preparation rooms?"

He turned to find Terra was already gone. A cursory glance of the bar showed no trace she had even been there. "Well, damn," he muttered, "now what?"

Locke glanced up. "The rafters," he insisted, his voice low. "Humans don't look up."

Edgar quickly propelled himself into the air, whilst Locke clambered up the side of the liquor cabinet. The treasure hunter cut it close - no sooner had he found footing than the door was forced open, and he and Edgar took refuge behind the connections as two Imperials soldiers stormed in. Locke recognized them as the Magitek armour pilots from the desert.

"No one here," one of the men muttered. "Since when is the South Figaro pub empty?"

"Probably heard Kefka's boom and scattered," a second mused. "I swear that guy gets more and more insane every time he opens his mouth."

"SHHHHT!" his companion protested. "You know what he'll do to you if he hears you talking like that?"

Both of them shuddered. Edgar drew out his retractable spear.

A door nearby opened; Locke, Edgar, and the Imperials turned to see Fire, Love, and the announcer girl from before their dance stepping out of the back room. Upon sighting the soldiers, the girls exchanged glances and smiled before stepping forward.

"What do you know," Fire called sweetly. "It's been a long time since we've seen soldiers around here. Can I get you boys-?"

"Shut up, bitch," one of the men snapped. "We're lookin' for someone. Green hair in a tail, dressed in red."

Love shook her head. "We haven't seen anyone of that sort-"

The other Imperial drew his pistol as well. "Put a sock in it," he snapped. "We know she was here yesterday. And we know she can take a shot."

"That's a bit extreme," the girl in green murmured.

Love set a hand on her shoulder. "Wind, don't banter with them."

The first one to speak drew his pistol as well. "If no one in this town tells us where she is, or where she went, we're putting this place under Imperial occupation."

"Well, I can't very well allow that, can I?"

The men spun around, finding the bar still empty aside from them and the girls. Edgar flicked the catch his spear, causing it to lengthen and the blade to scream out; the soldiers both looked up to see a spiky Edgar propel himself from the rafters, his legs elongated as he drove his spear into the first pilot's torso. The second one turned to fire at him, but Locke quickly dropped down and drove his knife into the soldier's arm, tearing a scream. His shoes ripped open as he slashed at the pilot's legs with his bladed feet, drawing his knife out of the soldier's arm and slamming it into his back.

The Imperials fell to the ground, lifeless, as Edgar and Locke turned to the dancers.

"You'd go through a lot of shoes that way," Wind mused, taking note of Locke's feet.

"You have _no idea_," Locke insisted. "I'm thinking of switching to sandals so I can just kick them off easy. So, you three...?"

"Terra told us about you," Love insisted. "She wanted to put on a show with her flames for you guys."

Locke turned very red, very fast.

Fire laughed at him. "We told her if anyone questioned the will-o-wisps, we'd just say we had puppeteers running pyrotechnics. Don't worry, our lips are sealed."

"Where'd Terra go?" Edgar asked them.

Wind pointed towards the door they'd come through. "She took the back entrance. Said she'd wait for you guys at the port."

Edgar swore. "That's the first place the Imperials are going to go. Thank you, ladies."

He and Locke quickly took off, leaving the dancers to clean up.

+x+x+x+

Terra was in a rather nondescript old shack in the port.

She was not alone.

Locke and Edgar stepped in to see Terra with her greatsword in hand. Standing at her side was a man dressed all in black, with a cowl wrapping his face and a fierce-looking dog at his side. The moment the door was open, Terra spun with her blade raised, only to lower it when she saw Locke and Edgar there.

Edgar closed the door behind them.

"You..." Locke mused upon seeing the figure in black.

The man turned to him. "Me?"

"You're that hired blade," the treasure hunter mused. "Shadow, they call you."

"I call myself, thank you," the mercenary corrected. His voice was dark, and all business. "You're Locke, the thief?"

"_Treasure hunter_."

Edgar shook his head. "Save the semantics," he insisted. Turning to Shadow; "Are you on a job?"

A shake of the cowled head.

"Are you against fighting the Empire?"

Another shake.

"Could you keep the Imperials distracted long enough that we could get out of town?"

Shadow glanced at the three of them. "You just need a distraction?" he asked.

Edgar nodded.

The mercenary thought for a moment. "How many coins have you got between you three?"

Terra reached into her pockets and came up empty.

Locke pulled a handful of small coins from his own.

Edgar drew out his wallet and unzipped the change slot, upturning it into his hand. Glancing between his and Locke's, he replied, "We've got a good three bucks or so in change."

"Then you have three minutes," Shadow insisted. "I'll send Interceptor to keep the Imperials at the edge of town busy."

The machinist slammed the coins onto a windowsill.

Terra stepped forward, sliding her greatsword into the sheath that was now on her back. Without hesitating, she pulled the door open.

"Start the clock," she insisted.

Shadow snapped his fingers, and his hound quickly took off. Edgar, Terra, and Locke quickly followed the dog out.

+x+x+x+

Interceptor proved... very violent at distracting the Imperial soldiers. The three of them were out of town in no time, but they didn't stop running until they were a fair way out of town.

"Those assholes are relentless," Locke muttered.

"Yes, they are," Edgar mused.

Terra turned in the direction they had come from. "What are they going to do?" she asked.

"South Figaro is the business center of the region," he mused. "They'll occupy the place, to be sure, but I doubt they'll bring too much harm or damage."

"But..." Terra lowered her gaze. "That commander... Kefka..."

Locke shook his head. "Don't worry," he insisted. "They'll be fine."

There was a long moment of quiet; then he and Edgar exchanged glances, a wordless understanding passing between them.

"Terra," Locke mused, "they're... not going to stop coming after you, are they?"

Terra lowered her gaze. "No... they're probably not."

Edgar sighed. "Would you... would you consider coming with us?" he asked.

"Huh?" Terra turned to them. "Coming where?"

"To the Sabre Mountains," Edgar explained.

Terra lowered her gaze. "That sounds... familiar, somehow," she murmured.

Locke sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised," he admitted. "The Imperials have been trying to get through Mt. Kolts for ages. They never get their Armour up the hills."

An expression of confusion rose on Terra's face, and she raised her gaze to Edgar. "But... why would you take me there?" she asked.

"There's someone we want you to meet..."

* * *

Draco: {snaps fingers} No, the three dancers are _not_ monsters. Yes they have had previous encounters _with_ monsters. Let's leave it at that.


	12. La Montaña de los Caballos Jóvenes

Draco: So... I've been rereading my dAmn shoddy fanfics to laugh at my naivete, and my Zelda hype recently turned my eye to that one. It turns out I wrote a variation on like half the plot twists of Skyward Sword in a Zelda fic that came about purely because I went into a fandom overload over Ocarina 3D, with all of them planned at _least_ a couple months before Skyward's Sword's release, and the fic itself concluded like three days after the game was out in North America (which I did not obtain until Christmas of that year, and after the announcement of which I had banished myself from the Zelda community).

{mimics head explosion a la Candlemaker}

Also, I got a copy of Hyrule Historia. If this Zelda state keeps up, I'll probably have a Zelda fic by the end of the year. Someone kick my ass for that.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**La Montaña de los Caballos Jóvenes**

The trip to Mt. Kolts was alright, as far as travel goes. When they arrived at the base of the mountain, Edgar had a reminiscent look on his face. "This is my brother's training ground," he told Terra.

Locke turned to him. "Sabin?"

"No, Zidane," Edgar mused, turning to him. "I've never told you about him before. He's a thief like you. He practices by stealing from the rocks. Of _course_ I'm talking about Sabin. Who else is going to be using this place?"

Terra was quiet as the two of them spoke. Locke noticed; concerned, he asked, "Are you alright?"

"There's... someone on this mountain," she murmured. "I can feel it."

Edgar turned to him. "Ah, yes," he mused. "Yoko energy is so high-level they can pick up another monster on the other end of a football field as though they were standing right by them."

The observation caused Terra to lower her gaze. Something about Edgar and Locke calling her a yoko still didn't quite feel right, somehow.

"Think it might be Sabin?" Locke asked.

"Possibly," Edgar admitted. Turning to Terra; "Does it feel anything like me or Locke?"

"I... what?" Terra was slightly confused.

Edgar rolled his eyes at himself. "Right, you can't tell," he murmured. Louder; "Here, close your eyes for a sec."

Terra did so. A sudden wind caught her hair - it was gentle, just enough to disturb her emerald locks, but it was still out of nowhere.

"You can feel me and Edgar here, right?" Locke asked. "Our energies? We're right next to you."

The flare dancer hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"Alright," Locke mused. "Now, the presence you feel on the mountain. Does that feel anything... like us?"

Terra turned her head slightly towards the mountain, quiet for a moment. "I... I can't tell," she murmured. The wind faded, and she opened her eyes.

"Could be too far away for her to make it out," Edgar mused. "It's alright. Thanks for the heads-up."

He drew out his spear again. "Best to go in armed, anyway."

+x+x+x+

The mountain peak had been cleaved flat from the clash of the two violent forces now entrapped in a duel there.

One of those forces was a diamond, scattered in a pile of gravel. Spikes as sharp as a steel blade protruded from his bare arms, his hands were a three-pronged scissor claws with all the force of dragon's fangs, and his shirt - a fighting tank in royal blue - was in pieces on the earth between him and his foe, leaving him clad only in baggy white leggings. His blonde hair, unkept, cast itself into his vision every so often, but a short tuft was imprisoned in a tail behind him.

His opponent was a demonic crow, bearing only the vaguest semblance of human appearance - shape, and voice. His eyes, buried in the shadows of his necrous silver hair, were only visible from the blank white glow they emitted, for his face was otherwise consumed by the menacing, razor-sharp beak it formed. Wings adorned in black feathers emerged from his back, and his tanned torso, bare, was wrapped in tattoos. His leggings were twisted tight to his legs, and the golden sash around his waist was shining gold.

They had known each other for ages, and each of them recognized every action their opponent took, but the diamond fought only to weaken his foe such that he could explain - and that put him at a disadvantage, for the crow fought with intention to kill.

+x+x+x+

Echoes of what sounded like explosions sounded every so often as the trio of Edgar, Terra, and Locke made their way up. Mt. Kolts was filled with a winding series of interconnected caves; though the climb was all the easier for it, every menacing _boom_ caused loose stones to rattle threateningly, sending their nerves into a fright.

A while up the mountain, the three stopped at a small outcrop located outside of the caves. "So," Locke mused, turning to Edgar, "how come I haven't seen Sabin around Figaro recently?"

"His training with Duncan has been getting more intense," Edgar explained, retracting his spear - though he didn't store it away. "He hasn't had time to visit the town. I hear the arguments between him and Vargas have been getting worse and worse."

"Weren't they bad enough already?" Locke protested.

"You don't know the half of it," Edgar admitted. "They put on airs of friendliness in public, but the moment they get out of town Vargas is at his throat. I swear that kid is a demon."

Locke scoffed. "That's friendliness?"

"Me and Sabin were worse as kids."

Terra had remained quiet; with a glance in her direction, Locke sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Terra," he mused, "none of this makes sense to you."

"It's alright," she insisted. "I don't... It's not too important."

A long moment of quiet.

Edgar was the one who broke it, getting to his feet. "Those crashes seem to have faded," he mused, changing the subject. "Here's hoping the path to the peak hasn't been caved in."

+x+x+x+

They made it to the peak without finding anything in the way - but when they got there, they had _much_ bigger things to worry about.

The top of the mountain was _flat_. The Sabre Mountains were so named because they looked like blades sticking out of the earth, but the peak was a shaved-level battlefield that could have hosted boxing Cyclopes. There were what looked like meteor impacts scattered about the surface, and what looked like a large, impenetrable boulder from one side was actually two broken _halves_ of a boulder.

"What the hell happened around here?" Locke murmured.

Edgar knelt at one of the impact points. "These blasts... these are from the punches of a crow tengu," he muttered. "Vargas or Duncan must have been here."

Terra turned to him. "A what?"

"Crow tengu," Locke explained. "Fallen angels is the best way to describe them. A punch from them will connect a good fifteen metres away. When they get serious, the impact is like a grenade." Turning to her, he asked, "Can you still detect that presence from before?"

The question caused Terra to close her eyes. A wind caught her hair again. "There's... there's two of them," she murmured. "It just felt like one before, but I can tell there's two of them, now." A pause; "It's... they're pretty close. And... I think they're fighting." She opened her eyes as the wind died again. "One of them feels like you guys."

"Sabin," Edgar mused. "If it weren't for all this, I'd say he's sparring with Vargas, but a tengu would have to draw his wings to make blasts like this."

"We'd better hurry," Locke observed. "If he's in a real fight, we don't want him going too long."

+x+x+x+

They were halfway down the other side of the mountain when they found the fight.

The battlefield was a jagged section of earth - those who would rather not risk a tumble would take a good three laps around the path it formed before reaching the next cave. Two men were locked in fisticuffs, their chests bare. One of them had silver hair dancing around his head, and jet-black wings emerging from his back, obscuring most of his body; the other had messy blonde hair, his arms covered in spikes and his hands like scissor claws.

"Sabin!" Locke called, hoping he could get their attention.

The monstrel turned to the three of them briefly. "Locke!" he called. "Edgar! Not a good time!" The tengu lashed a punch forward, and Sabin leapt aside as an _explosion_ of what seemed to be _pure vacuum_ ripped up around where he had just been.

Edgar let his spear elongate, the blade tearing out. "Vargas!" he shouted. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"Go back to your desert, machinist!" the tengu snapped, glaring over his shoulder - and Terra stumbled back when she saw his face consumed by a _crow's beak_. "This doesn't concern you!"

He hit the ground, lashing a one-two punch at thin air; Sabin managed to leap away from one explosion, tumble over the air of another, and hit the ground with his claws thrusting forward. Vargas only leapt away, landing with a slide.

"What's going on here?" Locke protested.

Sabin aimed one hand at Vargas, two claws folding so that one pointed at the tengu. "This bastard killed his own father because he saw something from the wrong angle!"

Edgar reeled.

Locke turned away.

Terra's gaze hit the earth.

A grimace isn't easy to do with a beak, but Vargas managed it. "I hope that came out wrong," he protested.

"Yeah," Sabin admitted, lowering his hand. "That came out wrong. Look, I'll explain later!"

He leapt forward, swinging his claws towards the tengu, but Vargas only sidestepped the blows before thrusting his fists downward and launching into the air. The explosions ripped up where he had been, and Sabin was sent flying - though he managed to right himself before he landed.

"Is this a personal matter?" Locke demanded.

"YES!" both of the combatants insisted.

Edgar grasped his spear in both hands. "Is this a matter of honor?"

Vargas snapped, "_Yes!_"

Locke raised an eyebrow. "Sabin?"

"Do what you want," the monstrel insisted.

"Oh, no you don't!" Vargas roared, punching towards him again; and Sabin crossed his arms before him as the explosion hit him full-on. When the dust cleared, he was on one knee, one arm hanging at his side, and he didn't look like he was in any condition to take another hit.

Terra weighed her options for all of two seconds further before she took stance to fight, her feet perpendicular to one another as one faced Vargas. Her greatsword was drawn from its sheath on her back, and she braced it earthward at an angle, held between her and her opponent.

"If it's all the same to you..."

Her other hand was raised skyward, with its palm forward, as it would be while she danced.

"...I think I'll intrude on this."

Vargas heard; in an instant he turned towards her, lashing his fist forward.

Terra ducked low, her hand touching the earth before her as the blast sounded from inside the cave she, Edgar, and Locke had come out of.

Then she leapt into a backflip, and a _bolt of fire_ tore from her heel, ripping through the air and connecting with Vargas' left wing. The blow sent him tumbling, and as he hit the ground he let his wings fold; the black feathers vanished, as did the flame they had caught, as his beak molded back into a human face. Terra wasted no time, leaping from her perch on the ledge the cave joined to, arcing into a swift forward flip and casting another bolt from her hand; Vargas ducked this one and rushed towards her, intending to strike her while she was swinging her weighty blade.

No such luck.

Terra's moves were no less graceful than her dance; she arced into a spin that drew her away from his blows, bringing the blade along his side before swiping it skyward and catching his shoulder. The blows ought have hurt, but Vargas showed no hindrance for it, turning back to strike at her from a skid that lasted about eight paces' worth; Terra only stepped aside as he thrust a punch that connected on the earth behind her - this one producing a much more subdued _thud_ as it did so, disturbing the rock dust.

She and Vargas rushed each other; his steps pounded the earth like Titan, but hers had all the grace of Shiva as they approached one another. She stopped on a nickel and pulled away as he punched forward, both the jab and its wave passing her without harm; then she arced into a spin, and Locke saw her sword _twirl __in her hand_ to connect thrice as she turned once. Vargas fell to the earth, though he rose up again quickly and tried to strike at her with a wave, but Terra only braced the greatsword in a backhand grip, such that its blade was raised above her.

Two smaller _thuds_ hit the stone before her.

Then she turned to face him, taking her sword-dancing stance once more.

Vargas grinned. "Clever..."

Then he lashed his fists earthward as a _surge_ of power emerged around him, and Terra stumbled as his wings burst out of his back again, his face taking the form of a beak. His monstrous energy surged around him, and the detonation of his blows was an explosion once more, one that threw him forward. Before Terra could react, he was already there, and he landed a fierce cross to Terra's jaw, throwing her from her feet and sending her flying into the stone his split punch had connected to.

Her greatsword clattered to the ground in front of Vargas.

Then the stone _exploded_, burying Terra under a torrent of rock.

"Terra!" Locke shouted.

Edgar let spikes surge out around his own arms, and his legs elongated as he leapt towards Vargas, his spear raised. "You _son of a **bitch**!_"

Vargas pulled away as Edgar passed before striking him in the head with his wing and then his opposite heel. The Figaro king tumbled back as Vargas grabbed the spear, wrenching it from the earth and rolling it along his hand. Locke was leaping towards him, his knife in hand, but Vargas caught it on the shaft of the spear before kneeing him in the gut and forcing him back.

The stones began to clatter.

Everyone turned to see Terra pushing the largest rock fragment - which had _landed on her_ \- aside, getting to her feet with one hand on her head. Slowly, she managed to pull herself over the piece before her, looking up at the fight before her.

"...Vargas... I believe?"

Vargas took a fighting stance, dropping the spear in favor of his fists. "How...?"

Terra blinked slowly. "...I... owe you thanks..."

Locke turned to her, shocked at her words. "What...?"

"There... seems to have been... some sort of... dam... on my memory."

The flare dancer set her feet perpendicular once more, one towards Vargas.

"Your blows... have such force to them..."

One hand was extended forward, palm skyward.

"...that you seem... to have damaged it..."

The other was extended skyward, palm forward.

"...if ever so slightly."

Vargas growled. "You... are making a _fool_ of me!"

Terra's gaze scanned the area in an instant, as - so she was beginning to realize - they had done many times before. Edgar was disarmed, and Locke had yet to blade his feet. Sabin, though not in the best of conditions, was on his feet - he was the best choice.

Their eyes met for the briefest of moments.

"NOW!"

Vargas already had his hand halfway out for a blow; and now, a sort of _light_ traced Terra's leg as she arced it into a forward kick, her foot raised at the same time the tengu's arm was extended. A _blaze_ dashed across the ground and slammed into Vargas' feet, the blaze ripping across one side of his body and throwing him into a spin - which put him in the perfect position to see Sabin rushing him.

The monstrel's hands... were _hands_.

It took only a moment; Sabin's fingers closed into fists, and he landed a sequence of seven blows across Vargas' bare torso, tracing the image of three triangles joined at the tips. He drew back one hand and landed an eighth blow at the point where the triangles would be joined, sending Vargas skidding back - and the tengu's eyes, shining beneath his silver hair, were wide in shock.

"That sequence..."

Then a blow struck his back, and his spine straightened as _his own explosive vacuum_ consumed him. Sabin stood straight, crossing his arms before him and bowing his head, his eyes closed as Vargas' body was ravaged by the blast; when it faded, the tengu stood there, the feathers torn from his wings, his beak cracked.

"You slew your own father. Fall to his arts."

He lashed his hands down at his sides, the spikes in his arms melting into his flesh, and the lights that were Vargas' eyes faded as he fell back, landing roughly upon the earth.

* * *

Draco: I know this one is rather short, I'm sorry. Mt. Kolts didn't take nearly as long as I expected it to.


	13. Bass of the Returners

Draco: My use of this track was planned since I started. I'm not sorry.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Bass of the Returners**

The group of Edgar, Sabin, Terra, and Locke arrived at the bottom of Mt. Kolts not long after the fight with Vargas. Proper introductions had been exchanged on the way, and Sabin had explained the situation between him and the tengu.

Terra made a mental note that crow tengu were dangerously dependent on their pride.

As they emerged from the cave, Edgar hooked his crossbow onto his back (his spear having been damaged in Vargas' explosions). "Finally," he mused. "How you guys manage to spend so much of your time on that thing, I'll never know."

"It's because it's unpleasant that we do it," Sabin insisted. "Makes you stronger."

Locke chuckled. "Tell me that again when you fight off a suit Imperial Magitek armour."

"Give me two," Sabin boasted.

"Not on your own," Locke muttered.

Noticing Terra at the back of the group, Sabin turned to her. "So, Terra. If you're here in the Sabre Mountains, I take it you want to talk with Banon?"

"Banon," the dancer murmured. "The Returners' leader." Turning to Locke; "That's... who you wanted me to meet?"

Locke scratched the back of his head nervously. They hadn't had much chance to explain at the edge of South Figaro; Kefka's destructive habits made it less than ideal to sit around chatting. "Look," he insisted, "I'm the first to admit that the Returners aren't exactly cut clean. But you're... you seem like you want a few answers. Banon's been working against the Empire for a long time now, and he's run into them personally more than once."

Terra turned to him with a curious look. "You think... he might know something about me?"

"I think he'll know something about how they were using you, at least," Locke admitted. "Maybe a way to deal with that block on your memory. Worst case scenario, he _will_ have a way for you to hide out somewhere."

+x+x+x+

The Sabre Mountains were numerous, but within the mountain range was a large open plain, and the base of the Returners was a simple-looking cave at the base of a seemingly insignificant portion of that range. As the four of them approached, however, they quickly found their way blocked by a crossed pair of spears, held by hands within that cave.

"Halt!" The spears remained crossed as one of their owners came into view. Locke raised an eyebrow at him, and the man pulled his spear away, prompting his companion to do the same. "Oh, it's you. Never mind."

"Do guards everywhere do that to you?" Terra asked of the treasure hunter.

"Enough that it feels like it," Locke admitted. To the guard; "Could you get me Banon?"

The guard shrugged. "Maybe," he mused. "The guy's going crazy ever since Arvis called him about Narshe."

Locke nodded. "One of a few reasons I'm here," he admitted. "Just get us an audience."

"Wait in the map room." At that, the guard took off.

For a cave, the base was very well-composed; were it not for the stone walls, Terra could have sworn it was any other building. The "map room" was simply a large meeting room with a map laid out across a long table. There was nothing upon it; Locke simply rolled it up and stored it away somewhere before taking his seat.

It didn't take long for Banon to show up.

He was clad in a lot of brown that looked to be leather armour. His hair was a cloudy mass of brown that circled his head and joined to a very impressive beard. In one hand was what could have been a walking staff... or a threatening sword. He didn't quite hold it like either. His expression was stern, and as he stepped towards the table, he looked over the four of them critically.

"It's been a long time since I've seen you two," he mused, beckoning at the Figaro brothers. His voice was deep and stern.

"I'm a King and a machinist," Edgar protested. "I keep busy. Sue me."

"I've been... occupied with Duncan and Vargas," Sabin murmured awkwardly.

Banon sighed, grabbing an empty seat and sitting down. "Alright," he insisted, turning to Locke. "You called me here for a reason. What do you need?"

Locke beckoned to the dancer. "She needs you, first."

The Returner turned to Terra, whose gaze rose. "Are you here to join us?"

"No."

"Maybe."

Locke's objection and Terra's observation emerged simultaneously. Locke turned to her quickly. "Wait, what?"

For a brief moment, dancer and Returner sat there, their gazes locked confrontingly. Terra was the one who broke the silence, her gaze falling as she asked; "Do you... recognize me?"

Banon blinked. "I... I don't, no," he replied. "Have we met?"

Edgar opened his mouth to speak, but Sabin kicked him under the table before anything could escape his lips.

Terra was quiet for a long moment; then she reached back, drawing something out of her garments.

"Do you recognize this?"

To the table, she cast a simple golden circlet.

Banon gazed over it. "That... is Imperial technology," he muttered. "I can tell from looking at it... but I'm afraid I don't recognize it, in itself."

Locke turned to Terra. "When did you...?"

"Locke," Edgar interrupted, "you do not ask a lady about things she hides away."

Sabin set a hand on his chin. "Imperial tech, huh?" he mused. "I don't like the looks of this."

Banon raised his gaze. "Is there some point to this?"

"I... The Gestahlian Empire... has been controlling me," Terra explained. "Whatever they did... it's put a block on my memories. Locke said you've been working against the Empire... for a while. We thought maybe-"

"Perhaps I would recognize you," Banon interrupted. "And I could tell you something that might just trigger a memory or two."

Terra nodded. "The flow is dammed. Sometimes... a few memories manage to trickle through. Harm will start to damage the blockage. But the Imperial soldiers won't stop chasing me. And I want to know why."

There was a long moment of quiet.

Then Banon sighed, turning to Locke. "What else are you here for?"

"The frozen monster in the mines of Narshe," Locke replied. "From Arvis' description, it's a siren with rainbow wings. The ice is hot to the touch - sounds like magic of some sort. I figured if you came with us to Narshe, you'd be able to tell us what that stuff is, maybe even get it off so we can talk to him ourselves."

"I'm told I need to get out of this cave anyways," Banon admitted. "Alright, but you know the people of Narshe won't be happy to see me." Turning to the Figaro brothers, he asked, "You come through South Figaro?"

Sabin pointed at Edgar. "They did," he admitted. "We ran into each other on Kolts and I kind of just tagged along for the ride."

Banon nodded. "I heard there was an Imperial attack. Did you miss it?"

"Almost," Edgar mused. "We had to get Terra out of there. I was going to head right back once we got her here with you."

"No," Banon insisted, "we'll need you in Narshe. If that siren thinks we're enemies, you're the only one who's going to be able to get in the air to stop it."

Terra's gaze fell in thought.

Locke clicked his tongue. "I've got my blades. I can head back to the city. I'll check what they're doing, maybe rewire a few sets of Magitek Armour." He pulled his knife and sheath off his waist and tossed it across the table to Terra, causing it to clatter and land in her lap. "You know what to do, right, Flare Dancer?"

The dancer in question nodded.

The treasure hunter pulled his shoes off his feet before letting his skates form. "I'll come to Narshe through the desert. Edgar, anything you want me to let your castle know?"

"Tell them not to touch my Air Anchor."

Locke rolled his eyes. "Who was the last guy stupid enough to touch your stuff? Let alone the stuff you're not done yet?"

At that, he took off through the cave.

Banon turned to Terra, who was holding Locke's knife carefully. "We'll leave tomorrow," he insisted. "For today, you'd better rest."

+x+x+x+

Locke wasn't even halfway back up Mt. Kolts before he ran into trouble.

That trouble was a squadron of _Imperial Magitek Armour._

"You've got to be Mulching me," he muttered, skating behind a boulder and pulling out his phone. He quickly dialed Banon and waited with his back against the wall. The mechs were currently unmanned; the men seemed to have gotten sick of piloting the things up and down a mountain, and had stopped to eat.

The answer didn't come from the voice he was expecting.

_"H-Hello?"_

Locke blinked. "Terra?" he asked quietly. "Why do you have Banon's phone?"

_"He and Edgar and Sabin are playing cards somewhere else in the cave. He left it in the map room. Why are you whispering?"_

"Because I'm hiding," Locke explained. "Look, I spoke of the devil. I've got like half a dozen suits of Magitek Armour on their way. They're halfway down already. You guys need to leave for Narshe, _now_."

Terra sounded worried when she spoke again. _"Are you going to be alright? The way that shadow guy was talking about you, it sounded like you're a wanted thief. If they see you-"_

"I'm not a thief!" Locke protested.

It came out louder than he meant it to. The Imperials behind him stopped chatting amongst themselves, and Locke groaned, flexing the fingers of his right hand. "I'm gonna put you on hold."

The first Imperial came around the corner.

Locke struck his handgun to the ground, causing it to fire at his own foot and freezing it to the ground. He quickly tossed his phone over the stone and skated around it to find three men already approaching him. He elbowed one in the face, slashed another across the side with his feet, and tripped the third with a blow to the leg before kicking his phone like a footbag, knocking it back into the air. The other two armour pilots had their handguns drawn, but Locke only jabbed his left elbow down, causing a hook to protrude from it, before cracking the knuckles of his right hand, prompting his fingers to arc into hooks.

The men fired at him, but Locke only ducked as they connected with the stone, ripping fire across its surface. He managed to kick his phone again, this time sending it in a high arc towards the soldiers as he rushed forward; before the men could fire again, he was already there, hooking one gun on his elbow and wrenching the other from its owner's hands with his hooked fingers.

He caught his phone in his normal hand, raising it to his lips.

"I'll buy you some time. You guys get going."

Then he flipped his phone shut, lashing into a low, spinning kick that knocked the soldiers to the ground, before rushing towards the parked armours. His hooks quickly ripped a set of wires out of each leg of each armour, and he managed to fray them to all hell before scattering them around and taking off. The men's attempts to follow him were of little use - a human on foot just can't keep up with a skate-footed monstrel.

In all the commotion, he had snatched a good fifty bucks from the soldiers.

+x+x+x+

Banon was in the middle of shuffling the deck for a fourth round when Terra barged into the room. Sabin (who had found a new shirt) and Edgar (who was still without a weapon) turned to her instantly, but Banon only sighed, setting the deck down and turning to her. "Don't tell me they're here already."

"You knew the Imperials were coming?" Terra asked.

Her words caused Banon's gaze to widen. "I meant our errand boys to Figaro Desert. What are you talking about?"

Terra held out his cell phone. "Locke called. He said they have Magitek Armour coming down Mt. Kolts. We need to go."

The moment she finished, Banon was on his feet, grabbing his staff-sword-_thing_. The Figaro brothers got to their feet as well, and Terra allowed Banon to lead them through the cave until they arrived at a small outcrop over a river. The water's flow was fierce, and Terra could see some nasty rapids not far down the river.

"Don't tell me we're swimming," Terra muttered.

In response, Banon grasped his weapon like a walking staff and struck the earth with it. A _pulse_ emerged from the tip, and in a few moments she could see a pair of large wooden rafts flowing towards them.

"Jump when they pass under us," Banon insisted. "Be careful on the landing!"

He and Edgar leapt first, landing on the one ahead. Sabin and Terra tried to make a landing on the second one, but Terra's timing was off - and so was Sabin's landing. The impact smashed the raft into logs, and only through fortune was Terra able to land on one of them, riding it like a surfboard as they hit the rapids. Edgar and Banon were having enough trouble keeping their raft upright; neither of them could spare the effort to get close enough to help her get Sabin out of the water.

No sooner had they left the first set of rapids than Terra caught sight of Sabin's muscled figure passing below her log underwater. Moving quickly, she reached in, grabbing the back of his shirt; the water below was moving a lot faster than the stuff above, and the force nearly ripped her off her stance, but she managed to straight-out _yank him from the water_, throwing him towards one of the logs.

It began to roll under him, and all his effort went into not hitting the water again. Terra managed to turn her log so it was in line with the river, approaching Edgar and Banon's raft - the need for two rafts had been from the speed of the river, but one platform would be more than enough for the four of them.

The problem came when something _grabbed_ her log.

The sudden _halt_ of momentum threw her right off the wooden piece. Swiftly, she managed to land upon another log, but she was horrified to see a grey _tentacle_ curled around her former mount. It certainly didn't help that Sabin was still rolling his log forward, and the held wood was _unmoving_.

"Sabin, jump!"

The monk didn't even question it; the moment she commanded it, he leapt from his rolling wood as it slammed into the one with the tentacle curled on it. The impact managed to force it from the tentacles grasp, and Terra watched as Sabin missed his footing and landed _painfully_ on the now-speeding log, which began to turn as he rolled under the water. Terra quickly leapt back to his log, rolling it beneath her feet until she could grab him by the shirt and throw him onto Edgar and Banon's raft. The impact didn't have force enough to break it, but it still knocked the thing into a spin, and Terra shouted an apology after them before leaping to a nearer log.

She was caught halfway through her leap.

Another tentacle wrapped itself around her thigh, and she shrieked, lashing out against it. Her kick missed, but this time the tentacle's source was moving _with_ the river, which meant she wasn't about to get left behind. Looking around, she was horrified to see something rise from the water - a swarm of eight unkind tentacles, emerging from a fleshy mass that clung to the back of a pale figure in a lot of blue denim. His hair was a blue that was nearly black, and a pair of bug-eyed glasses were perched on his face, but he had a menacing grin on his face.

"Ooh, you're a pretty one!"

Edgar had his crossbow in hand, and was freaking out. "Where the hell did that kraken come from?"

Banon growled. "Ultros," he muttered. "A troublemaker. I've kicked his ass more times than I can count. Thought he'd left the river already."

Terra wasn't taking it; she bent the leg he had grasped so that her foot was pressed against the tentacle, and a surge of fire connected point-blank, causing the kraken to scream. The moment she was free, she turned in the air, kicking the kraken in the face and leaping back towards the mass of logs.

"Edgar!" she shouted, falling low as she landed on one of the logs. "Shoot him!"

The Figaro king drew the lever on one side, but didn't bother winding the wheel before striking the bottom to knock an arrow; then he raised it and fired, the shot hitting near the base of another tentacle. He quickly drew the lever again, but at this point the kraken dove underwater, vanishing.

"Son of a bitch," Edgar muttered. "I need something with a blade!"

Terra's log was drawing close to the edge of the raft; she quickly drew her greatsword and impaled it at the edge. "Take it," she insisted.

A tentacle grabbed her log again, but she leapt off when the kraken tried to pull it away from the raft. Sadly, that seemed to be his intention; the moment she neared the raft, another one managed to wind around both of her feet, pinning her and hanging her upside down as he began to emerge from the water again.

Sabin quickly rushed to the edge of the raft, and Banon slammed against the other edge to try and balance it out as the monk slammed his clawed hands into the base of the tentacle. The kraken screeched and released Terra, who managed to grab the greatsword still impaled in the raft and pull herself up; then Edgar grabbed the weapon, spikes ripping out on his arms and legs as he sliced through the tentacle a good metre from the tip. Terra quickly stepped back as the kraken roared, the now-bleeding tentacle diving underwter.

"Son of a submariner! You muscleheads don't let up!"

Edgar smirked, propping the blade over his shoulder. "You need to learn how to treat a lady," he warned.

"Put a sock in it," the kraken protested, an undamaged tentacle rushing forward. Sabin moved to strike it with his claws, but it managed to weave around it, grabbing him by the arm and throwing him back into the water.

Another tentacle emerged from the other side of the raft, trying to grab at Terra again. Banon noticed; grabbing his weapon like a sword, he lashed the blade against the tentacle, lopping off a good foot. Terra spun as yet another emerged, trying to reach for her; she promptly leapt back with a forward flip, parting from the raft and landing on the kraken's head.

And _voltage_ surged out around his hair, causing everyone present to yelp.

Terra quickly propelled herself to grab the raft as the kraken sunk, taking all his tentacles with him.

"What the hell was that?!" Edgar demanded.

"Never mind me," Terra insisted, "what happened to Sabin!?"

She turned back around to see Sabin clinging to one of the logs a significant distance away. Banon, however, turned downstream - they were approaching a split in the river, and though they were heading towards the right branch of the flow to get to Narshe, Sabin needed to act fast.

No such luck.

The raft, holding Terra, Edgar, and Banon, went one way.

The logs, with Sabin clinging to one of them, went another.

* * *

Draco: Let's face it, this split was going to happen anyway. I'm going to save Terra's branch for last because it's short enough that I can just tie it into the ensuing scene, and I _think_ I'll do Locke's branch first.

I've always thought it weird how Banon's art shows him with a sword and armour, but in gameplay terms he's a healer who can't take a hit. So I made him a little bit of both - armour, but not steel armour, and a weapon that's not quite sword, not quite staff.


	14. Courage, Failure, Rosebud

Draco: None of you have the **_foggiest_** how badly the urge was to roar a thousand Rosa-Vam spoilers up here.

Alright, after that nuclear F-bomb on my notice, I have decided that I _will_ be continuing this fic. I _refuse_ to abandon another work without completion. I have already performed that betrayal several times before. However, I can say that my update speed will be markedly slower than I had previously anticipated. I repeat: the story can no longer remain firmly on the foundation laid by Akihisa Ikeda. Any information concerning delicacies of the Rosa-Vam universe will be henceforth taken as guidelines, rather than actual rules. Thus, a particularly high-tensile Willing Suspension of Disbelief will be required to further enjoy this story.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Courage, Failure, Rosebud**

"_What do you **mean** she's not here!?_"

Kefka's roars echoed all through South Figaro, despite their intended victims - three soldiers reporting in - being all of six paces ahead of him. "We've searched everywhere, sir!" one of the troops insisted. "The pub, the port, all of the shops, the official buildings; she's nowhere to be found!"

The Gestahlian commander growled. "Oh, I swear, if you lot-"

"Enough!"

The harsh female voice caused Kefka and the soldiers to turn towards its. Standing there was a woman in armour of bright gold, with amethysts set into her gauntlets and chestplate; a sword with a tapered edge was sheathed at her hip, and a shield with a broad surface was hooked on her back. Blonde hair danced at about shoulder length, and eyes like icy sapphires bore a piercing edge to their gaze. The troops all had expressions of relief at the sight of General Celes Chere - nicknamed the 'Lady of the Frost' by foot soldiers in the army. Anyone was preferable to Kefka; the man in question only rolled his eyes, shuffling towards her irritably.

"Celes, dearest," the clown-clad commander cooed condescendingly, "how many times do I have to tell you to not to interfere when I'm talking to the soldiers?"

"Roughly as many times as _I_ have to tell _you_ not to prepare flames for troops who give you a truthful report," Celes reprimanded. "If she is not here, that is no fault of theirs."

Kefka lashed his hands to his sides. "This Ifrit-damned pile of wood is the only way out of that cave!" he shouted suddenly. "We checked the entire desert - we've _still got_ people checking the desert - and there's no one there! Even that stupid king's sandcastle is gone!"

Celes sighed, her breath misting against the air before her. "Have you considered the fact that she might have _left_ this place?" she prompted. "I've already sent troops to scout the Sabre Mountains on Magitek Amour equipped to climb. If you want something to fight, I'm sure the port has plenty of room for a duel after that dog mauled our soldiers."

"You're challenging me _again_?" Kefka mused, leaning back on his heels. "That's your third time in two days. And what's this about sending armour?" His gaze swept across the town. "I never okayed anything of the sort!"

"No, you didn't," Celes admitted. "You were too busy playing with fire and laughing when everyone got burned. As the for the duel, for the last time, I am not _challenging_ you. I am simply saying that if you have need of ventilation, I and my blade can occupy you in place of the soldiers you insist on needlessly terrorizing."

Her words caused Kefka to glance to where the soldiers had been. The trio of troops had wandered off while they had been talking. "Whatever," he insisted, turning back to the general. "_I_ was put in charge of this attack. _You..._" - here he shoved his finger right up next to Celes' nose, causing her to pull back - "...are nothing more than an extra blade. You're supposed to follow my orders, _got it?!_"

Celes smirked - faintly, briefly, but it was there. "I have not disobeyed orders, only given my own," she insisted. "Now, if you're not sane enough to _give me_ those orders, I'm going to give the pub a second look."

At that, she turned away, making her way into the tavern before Kefka could protest.

The place had been cleared out - there were no customers at the tables, the barkeep was not behind the bar, and the soldiers had decided alcohol was not something to put in your body while Kefka is in town. After a moment to make sure there was no one to watch her, she pulled a waterskin off her belt and popped it open, trailing the smallest value into her palm.

"Alright... Terra. Have you been here...?"

With a swipe of her hand, the water was flying forward - whereupon it was quickly wrapped in a fierce chill. In a moment, an icy vapour was spreading across the bar as Celes walked towards the stage. The mist expanded, defying conventions of what frost ought and ought not do; by the time the general pulled herself onto the platform and turned back, the entire pub was wrapped in a frigid fog.

One hand went to the amethysts set in the gauntlet of the other.

Her eyes narrowed as the fog began to shift itself, taking a more precise form. It wasn't that it reduced, really, becoming specific figures; rather, it was quite the opposite. In places where people had been, the mist parted, as though a figure were standing there, and it could not enter the space. Celes quickly gazed about, looking for the figure Kefka wanted captured - a woman in a simple dress, hair drawn back in a tail, with an essence of fire whose past presence, even, ought begin to melt the ice in the air.

No such luck - clearly, whoever she had come here with had been wiser than to bring her to such a crowded place.

With a weak groan, Celes parted her grip on the jewelled gauntlet, causing the echoes to dissipate as the mist spread to fill the gaps; then she cupped her hands before her as the mist began to flow back towards her. As it neared, the frost would melt, water falling into her hands; when it was done, she had a good deal more water there than she had poured from her waterskin, and she raised the chill liquid to her lips and drank.

"That was kind of cool."

The voice from behind caused Celes to spew the water still in her mouth into her still-cupped hands; a small fit of coughs emerged as she turned to face the source - a young girl, in green garments that seemed kind of brave, her (very obviously dyed) green hair done up in twintails. The moment she was certain she wasn't choking, Celes reached for her sword, but the girl only raised her hands in surrender. "Woah, hey, I'm not going to hurt you!"

The general stopped, though she kept her grip on the sword's handle.

"Okay, I'm not gonna lie, I kinda know you're a little something more than human," she insisted. "But I'm not gonna hate on you for that. That's not your fault. If you need help with something, I can let you know. That kinda looked like the bar crowd from last night, are you looking for someone in particular?"

"Terra Branford," Celes snapped. "Was she here last night?"

"Terra?" The girl paused for a moment, thinking. "Oh, yeah, she was dancing last night. If she didn't show up in the crowd, you probably got it from while she was on stage."

Celes blinked, confused. _Terra... on stage? What was she..._

The girl angled her head from side to side. "Fire and Love asked her to dance as thanks for chasing off a preyer," she elaborated, as though Celes' question had been plain on her face. "She's really good! The flames made for some pretty awesome effects."

"She was using flame?" Celes demanded.

"Yeah, you're not the first people we've run into who are a little more than human," the girl admitted. "We told anyone who asked that we had puppeteers running pyrotechnics in the rafters."

"In the-" The Imperial glanced up to see the rafters were expansive enough to accommodate the community of a small village doing a conga line - a wire rig could easily be set up and taken down. "Oh, yeah, I guess I could buy that. So, where did she go?"

The girl shook her head. "No idea. She and her boyfriends were-" She stopped herself when she saw Celes' disbelief at the word 'boyfriends', starting again. "She and the guys she was with took off when they heard that jester laughing."

Celes rolled her eyes. "Entirely understandable. Thank you for your coopera-"

A fierce _crack_ sounded, and the general stumbled back as something slammed into the girl's side. Her body had hardly started to move before _flame_ ripped up around the impact, and a piercing scream tore out of the girl's lips as she fell to the stage. Celes turned in the direction the impact had come from to find an Imperial soldier standing there with his pistol in hand, and she had no time to speak before he fired again.

This time, the girl was not in pain when the flames burst.

"What the _hell_, cadet?" Celes demanded, leaping down from the stage. "What are you doing?"

The soldier lowered his pistol. "I'm sorry, General Chere," he insisted. "Commander Kefka's orders."

Celes drew her sword - its blade was adorned in silvery white patterns that _shimmered_ as it parted from its sheath. "What the hell kind of orders did he give that would cause you to fire Ifrit at an innocent like that?"

"Wind!"

The voice caused Celes to turn, icy vapour trailing the tip of her blade. Two more girls had emerged from a nearby room whose door was now open - one in red, one in blue, both with clearly dyed hair that matched their garments. At the sight of the girl in green, Wind, the girl in red rushed at Celes and the cadet. "You Imperial fu-!"

The soldier raised his weapon, and Celes had no time to stop him before another shot flew; this one slammed into the dancer's chest, and she screamed for roughly half a moment as the flames burned before falling to the floor, lifeless. Celes grabbed the cadet's wrist before he could fire again, forcing his gun arm heavenward to stop him from firing; while her back was turned, the girl in blue grabbed the nearest projectile - an abandoned glass - and hurled it towards the two. The glass connected with Celes' fingers, digging into her joins, and the commander's grip slackened; the soldier quickly forced her aside and fired at the last woman, landing a shot between the eyes.

You wouldn't know they were eyes when the flames were done, and she, too, fell to the ground.

Celes' sword slashed across the soldier's arm, causing him to drop his pistol, but the damage was done - she carried a sword for her own reasons, but a firearm just works too fast, and her blade to the flesh was too little, too late. "What in the ever-loving **_hell_** was that!?" she demanded.

"Commander Kefka told me to!" the soldier insisted, gripping the cut close to his flesh. "He said, 'Go to the pub, General Chere will be there. If anyone sees her doing her thing, blast them with Ifrit unless she's interrogating them.' His orders!"

"_I don't give two **shits** about that **clown's** orders!_" Celes roared. "Those girls had seen nothing that they were not already aware of! If you would kill them, without even _proper consideration_, just because that _**freak**_ told you to, you hardly-!"

Another shot.

Celes was still turning towards it when it connected with the side of her leg; her greave took the brunt of the impact, but did nothing to stop the voltage that raced through her body - it took all her willpower not to scream, and when the voltage faded her body refused to stay standing.

Kefka was standing there, three soldiers at his side, one of whom had a pistol in hand.

"Let's see," the commander mused. "Repeated attempts at combat with your ally, check. Ordering soldiers without prior consultation, check. Attack of a soldier under the command of someone else, check. Risking exposure of Imperial monstrous workings, check. Verbal insult of a superior officer, check and mate."

The Lady of the Frost glared at him. "You planned this..."

A menacing laugh came from the clown above her. "Celes Chere, your actions have threatened the integrity of the Gestahlian Empire. As the highest acting Gestahlian official presently available, I declare you guilty of treason against Emperor Gestahl, and sentence you to death by Bahamut firing squad amidst a drop from thirty-seven thousand feet above the skies of Vector. Until such time as your execution can take place, you will henceforth be our prisoner during our occupation of South Figaro!"

For all his insanity and bloodlust, Kefka could certainly be an articulate son of a bitch when he had Gestahlian law on his side.

He snapped his fingers, turning to the soldiers he had with him. "You two," he mused, pointing at the ones who had _not_ fired the shot, "put her in the basement under Nova's place. You," he added, turning to the soldier Celes had cut, "you're on Magitek Armour patrol. And you," he finished, turning to the one with his pistol, "get me a Final Eclipse."

"Does that mean we get our bar night?" the soldier with the cut asked.

Kefka shrugged one shoulder, then the other, then both. "What the hell."

+x+x+x+

"Great, they've got Magitek Armour _here_, too."

Locke had arrived at Narshe at sundown. Getting as far as the weapons shop without drawing attention had been easy, but a glance around the corner revealed a couple sets of Magitek Armour experiencing some crossroad difficulties. With an irritable groan, he ducked into the weapon shop, finding the counter empty.

With a light hum, the treasure hunter made his way to the weapon selection and grabbed a mythril knife - for there is no security like a weapon in your hands.

He managed to get onto the rooftops, knowing from experience that humans were not particularly inclined to look up. From what the Magitek Armour pilots were saying, the insane commander Kefka had gone elsewhere; with a couple careful steps, Locke managed to arrive at the pub, where the soldiers were partying. Locke managed to weave his way through the drunken rambles and arrive at the basement, where he found a very intoxicated soldier shouting at a very young boy.

"I don't care _what_ you've been _told_ to do!" the soldier roared. "Give me that damn bottle!"

One look at the boy told Locke that the bottle of Thunderstorm liqueur was an intended delivery; with a roll of his eyes, the monstrel stepped forward and grabbed the man's shoulder. "At ease, soldier."

"Huh?" The cadet turned, finding Locke standing there - very quickly, he stepped back, fumbling at his hip (on the wrong side) for his pistol. "You're that thief!"

Locke growled. "Oh, for the love of-"

In one fast movement, Locke managed to remove the soldier's helmet, knock him out with a fierce cross to the jaw, and slide him out of his uniform's jacket, leaving the man slumped on the floor.

"I'm a _treasure hunter_," he insisted.

The boy looked surprised. "Treasure hunter?" he asked. "Are you... Locke Cole?"

Locke chuckled. "That's me. You have somewhere to take that drink, right?" he asked.

"Yes," the boy confirmed. "But... Why are you here?"

"I'm just checking the place out on my way to Narshe," the treasure hunter explained.

"...Then... you should go to Nova's place," the boy mused. "He said something about the Empire last time I was there."

Locke was surprised. "Nova?" he asked. "What's he got to do with it?"

The boy shook his head. "I never saw you, and I never told you about it," he insisted, rushing past Locke.

_Nova is in charge of the patrols around the cave to the desert,_ Locke recalled. _What's he talking about the Empire for...?_

With a hum, Locke glanced down at the unconscious Imperial soldier. A brief glance at the uniform; then he smirked.

_A little small, but it'll do._

+x+x+x+

A few moments later, Locke was strolling through the streets of South Figaro, wrapped in the outer layers of an Imperial outfit. The soldiers never gave him a second look, but he knew better than to head straight to Nova's place - a cadet waltzing in through the front door of the biggest mansion of town was not going to be a good idea. Rather, he made his way down to the basement of the armoury, finding a young woman standing there.

"What's a soldier like you doing down here?" she demanded.

Locke snickered. "Is that the welcome I get after so long?" he inquired, reaching up to draw off his helmet.

The woman was surprised to see his face. "Locke..." Then she stepped back, setting her expression on a firm stare.

"_Calling is dark the when away run never..._"

Locke returned the stare with one of his own.

"_Firm resolution, strong be must courage your_..."

The woman quickly drove her hand into her pocket and a small segment of wall nearby shifted. "What do you need from Nova at a time like this?" she demanded.

Locke sighed, stepping towards the wall and forcing it open. "I'd love to know, myself," he admitted, closing the hidden door behind him.

+x+x+x+

The passage took Locke to the basement of Nova's mansion. Discarding the helmet in a random corner of the basement, the treasure hunter made his way upstairs. To his horror, his concerns about the front door had been unfounded - soldiers _were_ waltzing in and out of the mansion, sharing jokes and laughter. With a thick curse, Locke made his way up to the second floor, finding the man he was looking for sitting at a table.

Nova was a guy who liked simple things. Blue skies, black suit, red wine. He had a glass of wine in his hand already, and when Locke arrived up the stairs, the man was in the middle of a morose sip. The drink in his mouth was spewed back into his glass at high speed, and as Locke approached him he quickly raised his hands. "I'm sorry!"

Locke sighed. "I have no reason to believe that you're sorry," he retaliated, "because until now, I didn't know you had anything to be sorry _for_." He stepped forward. "What's happened here? How the hell did the Empire get here unnoticed?"

"I-I was approached by a man in Imperial attire," Nova explained. "He told me there was someone who had run away from the Empire coming through here. A girl with green hair."

"Does her hair really stand out that much?" Locke muttered.

"The only other person with green hair is that dancer-in-training Wind," Nova mused. When Locke shot him a glare, he pulled back and continued; "A-anyways, he told me that if she came to South Figaro, I was to relax the guard the next day. He gave me twelve hundred bucks and swore no one would get hurt unless they tried to defend her. He lied to me."

Locke growled low. "Is there anything else I should know?" he demanded.

Nova's gaze fell. "They're holding an Imperial in the passage out of town," he added. "A general. Apparently she's awaiting execution, but they can't pull it off until they head back to Vector."

The treasure hunter hummed. "I think I can make use of that," he observed. "Alright, you're off the hook for now. I'm heading out of town, and I'm taking that general with me. If you tip the Imperials off, I'm gonna burn this place to the ground, and take everything that isn't nailed down and on fire."

+x+x+x+

There was one off-room in the passage out of South Figaro - and that was where the Lady of the Frost had been imprisoned, with a single guard armed with six Ifrit rounds in a revolver. The door had been opened once - to offer food, which the general had refused. Now it opened again, and the general - stripped to her undergarments, her arms chained crudely to a series of coat hooks - only turned her head away upon glimpsing an Imperial uniform. "I told you, I'm not hungry."

A gunshot sounded.

The sound of ice caused Celes to turn to her guard, shocked to see ice spreading from his heart. Her gaze went to the man at the door - his uniform was slightly small on him, his helmet was missing - revealing a bandanna with a tuft of brown hair poking out - and in his hands was a revolver, which he was looking at curiously. With a confused tone to his voice, he asked himself aloud; "Why would they use ice around Kefka if he likes to burn things?"

Celes didn't hesitate to act; the ice coating the now-dead cadet rapidly expanded, slipping between the links of her chains and shattering them. She had no time to deal with the clasps around her hands, but she didn't _need_ to now that the chains were broken; the ice quickly formed two prongs, which she grabbed and shattered. The chunk in her left hand expanded to form an icy shield; the chunk in her right hand became a sword of frost.

The imaginary soldier had no time to react before the edge was raised to his neck.

"Who are you?"

A smirk adorned the infiltrator's face as he lashed his left elbow forward - and a _hook_ tore through the sleeve of the too-tight uniform, catching the sword and locking it in place. Without moving his left arm, he cracked the knuckles of his right hand, causing them to extend into a series of hooks; when Celes lashed her shield forward, he dug the hooks into the inside edge to stop it as he forced the blade aside.

"Someone from the dark."

Celes glared at him - and saw the familiar expression that told her the saliva in his mouth had solidified. "Why are you here?"

"I'm on my way out of town," the hook-hander explained. "I heard there was an Imperial stuck down here, and figured she wouldn't mind lending me a hand."

"Do you automatically assume that because I am imprisoned here means I will aid you?" Celes demanded.

Her confronter snickered. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?"

Celes rolled her eyes. "The enemy of my enemy is my _ally_," she corrected. "Friendship is earned elsewhere."

"Fair enough."

The hooks molded back into flesh, and their owner held out his now-ordinary right hand. "Locke Cole, treasure hunter."

"General Celes Chere," the prisoner replied, reciprocating the introduction. "Well, former general."

The hand was not taken, and Locke withdrew it without pressing for a shake. "I imagine as a general, you had been fairly armed before you turned on them," he mused. "You got any idea where they might have put your stuff?"

"They had me blindfolded until we got into the passage," Celes admitted, "but I heard my armour clattering when they threw it aside on my way down here. Was there a closet near the entrance?"

Locke nodded. "One moment."

He was back in all of twenty minutes with a bag full of armour and a sheathed sword. Celes was impressed when he handed her the gear, turned away, and cracked the door open just enough to keep an eye on the outside. After all of ten seconds, he spoke without turning; "Messing with ice, freezing my mouth - I didn't think the Gestahlian Empire hired monsters. You a snowgirl?"

The door was grabbed and thrown open, and Locke turned to see the general was already covered in armour; she was holding her sword by the sheath in her left hand, her right closed on the grip. "You know the way through the passage?" she demanded.

"Yeah," Locke confirmed.

"Then you take point," she replied. "I'll cover your ass."

+x+x+x+

The passage was unpatrolled - and with good reason. It came out not far from the cave to the desert - a ladder up to a trap door hidden beneath a rock that moved for fifteen seconds after pulling a switch on the inside. The moment they were out, Celes turned to Locke with an accusatory glare, her hand back on her sword. "Where are you going?"

"Narshe," Locke replied. "You need a place to hide out?"

Celes only glared. "What in the world are you talking about?" she demanded. "Narshe can't defend itself."

The treasure hunter rolled his eyes. "Spoken like an Imperial who saw that attack," he mused. "That's not what I meant. We're already hiding someone the Empire wants. Giving you were working under Kefka, I'm guessing you know who."

"Terra Branford."

"Bingo."

Celes lowered her blade. "Who is 'we'?"

Locke snickered. "The Returners," he explained. "I'm guessing you know all about us."

"Are you kidding?" Celes demanded. "You assholes are so secretive we don't know much more than your leader's name. Banon, right?"

A darkness crossed Locke's expression. "Sorry if I was too subtle," he reprimanded, "but 'we assholes' are stopping your boss from re-brainwashing Terra."

Celes was slightly confused at that. "Brainwashing?"

"Yeah," Locke mused, "they had her wearing this little circlet like a princess. The second was off, she didn't know who or where she was."

"I _knew_ that thing was suspicious!" Celes snapped. "I've never seen her when she's _not_ wearing it, and she's always talking like she doesn't know how to talk. I swear, if Emperor Gestahl knows about that and hasn't done anything to stop it-"

Locke coughed lightly to interrupt her rambling. "She's with Banon and a couple others right now. We were gonna meet up at Narshe. If you come with me, you associate with us and you _will_ fight _any_ Imperials who try to take Terra back."

Celes sighed. "Brainwashing, needless murder, and indiscriminate hellfire," she muttered. "There's no way I'm siding with the Empire after this."

A grin rose on the treasure hunter's face as he held out his hand again.

"Welcome to the Returners, Lady of the Frost."

A glare adorned Celes' face. "You know who I am?" she accused.

Locke snickered. "I know the title and the name it goes with," he replied. "I just didn't have a face to put them to."

This time, Celes accepted the handshake.

* * *

Draco: Sorry Locke's sneak-through-Figaro scene was super-abbreviated, but you've all seen it a dozen times and I'm doing enough pseudo-literation already. To those who came from Keys and Crosses: if you can infer the plot of VII, you can infer a bit of gameplay. To those who have not: Yeah, I more or less did to all of VII what I did to this scene, and I would have done the same to VI if I hadn't twisted it as far as I did.


	15. Stone Drum

Draco: I should probably do a cover, but at the same time, I don't know that I _can_ do a cover that befits a prequel to a fic with a cover like _that_ {points at K+C cover}. That makes me feel a little like an ass.

Those of you reading this before Condemned to Dissidia is done: I have the remaining chapter(s) prepared, I'm just waiting to submit them until a certain point has passed.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Stone Drum**

"Never thought I could hate a nerd this bad when my brother's a machinist..."

Sabin had come out of the river at the edge of a huge plain. With a groan, he rolled his shoulders, prompting his spikes to mold back into his flesh; then he cracked his knuckles and started to walk. Nothing about his surroundings was exceptionally familiar, but after a bit of walking, he found himself approaching a small hut that looked like it was falling apart.

He knocked on the door - very lightly, such that the sound was almost inaudible.

The door fell forward; its hinges had no grip to them.

"Er, hello?" Sabin called, leaning inside. "Is anyone here?"

"No one's been here for years."

The dark voice from behind him caused Sabin to turn, raising his fists before him. Standing there was a figure wrapped all in black, his eyes all that was visible of his face, and at his side was a black-furred dog that looked like it could take his leg off. Sabin recognized the figure, but did not feel particularly inclined to lower his hands. "Shadow, the blade for hire," he observed.

"What're you looking for?" Shadow inquired.

"I need to get to Narshe," Sabin explained. "I fell off a raft on the river that comes from the Sabre Mountains. What's the fastest way to Narshe?"

The hired blade scoffed lightly. "Past Doma," he replied. "Which the Empire is marching on."

A heavy sigh from the Figaro prince. "Well, damn," he muttered. Then, after a moment; "What the hell, I can bust up a few mechs on my way through. You want to come with?"

"Can you pay me?" Shadow demanded.

"See you around, then," Sabin observed, taking off.

Shadow grabbed his arm before he could leave. "I can take payment later, if you don't have it on you," he added.

Sabin raised an eyebrow. "I'm not gonna be able to pay you for a good while," he insisted. "Like, I'll have to meet up with you around Narshe or Figaro some time."

"You realize South Figaro is under Imperial occupation?" Shadow informed.

"I meant the castle," Sabin replied. "I'm on good terms with the King. Bill the castle, I'll be able to pay him back."

The blade for hire looked like he was about to respond - his cowl seemed to move, as though his mouth was open - but no sound emerged, and he gave Sabin's face a once over before angling his head lightly. "If that's a yes, I'll need your name."

"Sabin," the muscleman replied. "Take me to Doma - anything else is on you."

+x+x+x+

The Imperial soldiers had already made camp not far from of Doma Castle when Sabin and Shadow arrived - which happened to coincide with the arrival of several troops marching to the castle. It seemed the Ghestahlian Empire was incapable of attacking Doma without things _going badly_; the doors didn't so much as _budge_ upon contact, the walls were so smooth that attempts at climbing were foolhardy, and the troops lacked Magitek Armour - the 'climber' models dispatched to Figaro were simply smaller and better balanced to provide more stability, for the Empire had yet to develop armours capable of scaling a vertical surface.

One soldier loosed an entire machine clip of Ifrit rounds on the doors - which, though very heavy, _were_ made of wood.

When the flames had burned enough to see through them, the soldiers found a _solid brick surface_ behind them.

"Oh my! You must be Ghestal's men!"

The soldiers looked up to see a man Doman wear - plate mail of a rather old fashion, though made with a metal sturdy enough to make it as effective as modern armour. "Sorry, we weren't expecting visitors! Did you want to speak with someone?"

The captain, a man in a black uniform, glared at him for a moment; then he turned to his soldiers and pointed at the man irritably. "Kill him!"

A light yelp emerged from the sentry before leaping inside the castle walls as the Imperials fired a volley of gunshots; the blasts connected with the side of a high tower, where Feymarch's vanguard triad painted the bricks in voltage and frost. Orders were shouted from over the wall to get everyone inside; the troops turned to their captain, who only groaned irritably.

"One mech!" he protested. "We could've jumped from the pilot's seat to the walls! But _no_, the doors in the castle wall are _too short_! It's just a _waste of resources!_ You couldn't have sent _one! Frikkin'! Magitek! Amour, Gestahl!_"

+x+x+x+

"The Empire is far too stubborn. This will not keep them out for long."

The Doman sentries were gathered in the entry hall; a commander had joined them, and they were trying to decide what to do to handle the Gestahlian troops. The commander's words produced incredulous expressions on a few sentries' faces. "The bricks through the entry were laid weeks ago," one man protested, "they can't possibly get in through there. And the walls were ground flat as of yesterday. I certainly didn't see any cannons, and that guy was yelling about the lack of Magitek Armour. How are they gonna get in?"

The sentry who had sounded the alarm shook his head. "They had a good number of men out there," he insisted. "They'll figure out how to use each other to climb sooner or later."

"How about we send Garamonde?"

The question caused everyone's gaze to go to the man who had spoken it. "That... just might work," the commander admitted.

"What?!" a fourth sentry demanded. "Okay, I know his sword has messed with a gunfight before, but you _saw_ what those rounds did to the high tower!"

"Have you ever been on the receiving end of his attacks?" protested the man who had offered the question. "He asked me to spar with him, once. I didn't think foam and plastic could hurt like that."

Everyone looked to him.

"When he fights," the man continued, "you will _swear_ an eclipse, and feel the fangs of hell in your flesh."

The commander sighed. "We'll send Garamonde, then."

+x+x+x+

It took a few tries for the soldiers to figure out how to climb each other. They tried stacking shoulders, but that quickly proved unstable. Being up against the wall only made sure they fell one way instead of both. They tried covering the wall in Shiva rounds to help provide grip, but against a smooth surface like that, it only formed smooth ice (Ifrit rounds were promptly deployed to melt the ice). Eventually, the decided to form a human pyramid like a bunch of wannabe cheerleaders.

When the point was made, the next man to climb up was able to grab the edge of the wall.

This got his fingers _cut off_, and his reaction knocked down the entire group.

The scream of pain got the captain's attention, and with a groan he stormed to the men who had fallen on one another. "What the hell was that?!" he demanded.

"Oh? Be these soldiers thine?"

The voice was very strong, and the words were very archaic; confused, the man turned his gaze up to see a figure standing at the edge of the castle wall - his armour was in a similar fashion as the sentries, but much more elaborate, with a long cape of bright blue. Before anyone could react to the man standing there, he quickly leapt from the stones, landing with a swift roll a few paces away from the tumbled soldiers. In his left hand was a sheathed blade, his grip on the sheath but close to the handle, such that he could draw it in his right hand; his hair was deep black, tied behind him in a tail, and as he turned to face the soldiers they could see a very prominent mustache.

"Thy attempts at breaching the walls of mine home art honourable, to be fair," the man insisted, raising his sheathed weapon before him. "Alas, not thee nor thy forces shall enter mine home whilst blood doth yet run through mine veins!"

A moment's quiet.

Then the captain broke out laughing, prompting his soldiers to get to their feet, drawing their weapons. "You're kidding, right? '_Mine_'? '_Thee_'? '_Doth_'? Who are you, Marcellus Pye?"

The man smirked lightly. "Cyan Garamonde," he introduced. "From the actions of thine troops, I presume it is thy intention to strike myself down before I can entreat with thee."

"Good Ifrit," the captain muttered, "you're serious about the whole Old Speak thing." A light cough of his throat. "Um, it... be mine..."

"Thou need not force thyself to speak in a manner reflecting mine own," Cyan insisted. "I understand thy speech, as it stands."

A relieved breath forced itself past the captain's lips. "We're taking your castle," he said bluntly. "If you're gonna interfere with that, yeah, we're gonna shoot you full of holes."

The men aimed their pistols at him as their captain drew a rifle.

Cyan's gaze scanned the men curiously. "Given the strikes thy prior attacks landed on the high tower, I doubt thy weapons would _allow_ holes to form - in any manner that would remain holes, at least. Pardon mine asking, Sir...?"

The captain realized the Old Speaker was requesting his name. "Nocturne," he replied.

"Sir Nocturne," Cyan mused. "Art thou familiar with that which is called... 'rule of three'?"

"You're not gonna challenge me to janken for your castle, are you?" the captain demanded.

"Nay," Cyan replied. "Rather, I shall challenge thee to single combat; thy weapon of choice, against mine trusted sword. If thou shall fall, I shan't so much as brush the dull of mine blade against the garb of thy troops, should they retreat. I understand thy... wariness, and as such allow thee time to consider."

His hesitation implied that 'wariness' was not the first word to come to his mind, concerning the captain's potential actions.

"Should thou, or thy men, act _thrice_ without accepting, I shall withdraw mine offer and take action against thy forces." Here, Cyan raised his blade before him, and his tone grew dark. "However, I promise thee; thy refusal of mine offer shall see these men cast to the earth, as lifeless as the stones upon it. If thou hast any care for the lives of thy troops, I advise thee to prepare thyself for single combat."

The captain smirked. "Let me get this straight," he insisted. "If I don't agree to fight you mano-a-mano, you're going to take on thirty men, all armed with enough Ifrit rounds to make this place a blazing hell, using... a katana?" His words prompted the soldiers to start laughing.

"Kodachi."

"I'm sorry?" The captain was confused at the statement.

"Mine blade is properly called a 'kodachi'," Cyan corrected.

The captain rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers.

One man raised his pistol, and Cyan only turned his gaze to the soldier, hardly turning his head, before the trigger was pulled; yet the bullet, aimed at his head, only flew harmlessly above him, for the swordsman was on one knee, his sheathed sword against the ground. Another man raised his own, firing at his chest; it hit his weapon on the way there, and ice wrapped the sheath, causing the man to wear an impressed look as he got to his feet - the ice failed to reach his hand before it stopped spreading.

He turned to the captain. "Thy troops have acted twice," he observed, "and thou hast not accepted mine offer. I advise thee to consider before allowing them to act a third time."

The captain looked nervous as hell. "Um... I am not the greatest combatant here," he mused. "Would you allow one of my soldiers to act in single combat, under the same terms?"

Cyan turned to the soldiers. "Gentlemen," he inquired, "doth thy captain speak truthfully?"

"Hell no!" the troops all insisted at once.

"You all _suck_," the captain protested, reaching for something on the back of his belt. Cyan was impressed to see him draw a bayonet, clipping it to the underside of his rifle's barrel - not for his choice of weapon, but for the fact that he had chosen to accept the offer. "Fine, I'll fight you."

"Have all of thy men cast their weapons to earth," Cyan mandated.

The captain sighed. "Men," he insisted, "drop the pistols!"

The soldiers set their weapons on the ground.

Cyan glared. "_All_ of their weapons," he insisted.

"Screw you," the captain muttered. Then, to his men, "And the knives!"

Each man drew out a switchblade, flicked it open, and tossed it to the ground. One landed point-in.

Then Cyan braced his - still sheathed - sword before him. "Fire heavenward when thou art prepared."

"See, that's a problem," the captain mused, "asking your_ opponent_ to start the fight with a shot."

He raised his rifle.

The shot passed Cyan a meter to his left - or rather, Cyan was a meter to the right when the bullet passed where he _had_ been. Horror struck the captain at this point, realizing that this was a man who he _really was_ better off fighting with a bladed weapon, and he charged forward with his rifle in hand. Cyan raised his sheathed kodachi, beating the bayonet aside; then, when the captain made to strike him with the butt of the rifle, he simply lashed that aside as well. The firearm was raised with intent to smash the length over his head, but Cyan only spun the sheath in hand, grasping it as though half-handing the sword within and setting his empty hand near the tip of the blade as he raised it to lock weapons.

"Prithee," he mused, "do not tell me this is thy best. Thou art no stranger to combat with a weapon in close quarters, to be fair, but thy rifle is less than adequate as thy weapon of choice."

"Shut up!" the captain spat.

He propelled himself back, raising his weapon to fire again; by the time the barrel was pointing the right way, Cyan had turned his sheathed blade in hand again, such that it could be drawn, and as the captain set his finger on the trigger, the swordsman set his hand upon the grip of his kodachi.

And everyone there would _swear_ the skies went dark, the moment his fingers touched the weapon itself and not the sheath.

"Then let mine blade speak in mine place."

The trigger was pulled.

The gunshot sounded.

Ice burst in the air about a foot from the end of the barrel, and the captain screamed as his rifle was rent in two, a blade piercing his flesh like a demon's fangs.

He fell to the ground, and Cyan raised the tip of the kodachi to his opponent's neck.

"Plead for thy life, or I am expected to deliver death unto thee."

The captain let his head fall back, shouting to his men, "Kill this thing!"

Cyan turned to the soldiers as they grabbed their resting pistols, raising them; the shots were never fired, for in an instant the weapons burst, the barrels torn and the Ifrit rounds detonated in the chambers. The men all stepped back at the sight of Cyan standing before them, his blade outstretched at his side.

"If any of thee shall take flight, I shan't pursue," Cyan promised. "Attack me again, and I shall see all of thee who raise their arms join thy captain."

The men promptly took off, hands raised above their heads.

Now Cyan stepped towards the fallen captain, who was struggling to rise, and raised his blade again. "Plead for thy life," he said again, "or I am expected to deliver death unto thee."

"Screw you."

The protest prompted Cyan to sigh.

"Then again," he admitted, "I imagine death would be a welcome reprieve, to one such as thee who hast served the Gestahlian Empire."

+x+x+x+

"Imperials certainly don't play subtle..."

Sabin and Shadow were hiding behind a pile of crates - filled with ammunition - near the entrance to the camp. Shadow had instructed his dog, Interceptor, to wait a fair distance away from the camp, which made it slightly easier to keep hidden. "Do I have to go _to_ Doma to get to Narshe?" the monk asked.

"Not quite," Shadow admitted. "But you _are_ gonna have to get through this camp."

"Alright," Sabin replied. "If you stick around after you get me through, I'm not paying you for that. You're a ninja - I figure you know how to get by undetected?"

Shadow glanced over the crates briefly. "Wait for my signal, follow my footsteps."

The camp had been made in haste, and that left plenty of cover for the assassin to guide Sabin through. They were about halfway through the camp when they found a soldier giving a report to a figure both of them recognized.

"Completely barricaded..." The man was of a dark complexion, with blonde hair in a mohawk providing a light-in-the-darkness effect; a tailcoat of deep green adorned his body, and there was a sword with a curved blade hooked on his waist. "How typical of Doma to play defensively."

Shadow and Sabin, gazing over the top of a half-broken stone wall, dropped back down to keep themselves hidden. Shadow seemed incredulous as he asked, "Is that...?"

"General Leo Cristophe, Lord of the Blade," the monk confirmed. "They say he's like the opposite of Kefka - he won't waste a life, be it his ally or his enemy."

The report was half-complete when the clatter of machine caused soldier and General to fall quiet, turning towards the source. Shadow gazed over their cover and muttered a curse into the stone; Kefka Palazzo himself was prancing towards the two Imperials, followed by six Magitek Armour mechs.

"Speak of the devil, and Pandaemonium shall rise," the assassin muttered.

Sabin groaned quietly, setting his head against the stone. "Kefka?"

Shadow dropped back down. "Kefka."

"Kefka!" Leo spoke as though he _weren't_ talking to the most twisted man in the Empire. "I thought you were assigned to Figaro?"

"Oh, Figaro's dealt with," Kefka insisted, waving a hand dismssively. "Emperor Gestahl wanted you to head back to Vector and sent me to take over. The airship's just outside the camp. And look!" He beckoned to the mechs and added in a sing-song tone, "I brought Magitek Armou~r!"

Leo set a hand on his head. "Why would he send us without them, and then send a supply after us?"

Kefka realized he had miscommunicated. "Oh, this isn't from Gestahl. I brought it for you guys! I thought you were all gonna be moody by now, not getting to play with these babies."

"Again with deploying mechs against the Emperor's orders," Leo muttered. "You're lucky, Kefka. I was just about to send a request. We might be able to scale Doma's walls with these." He raised his gaze, nodding to Kefka. "Only deploy as many as we have capable pilots," he insisted.

"Well, _duh_," Kefka protested. "Even I hate trying to explain things in those things. It's like giving instructions for a Rubik's Cube with a blindfold over your eyes."

The General started walking past him, then stopped and turned. "And Kefka?"

The clown turned. "Hm?"

"_Don't. Play. Dirty._"

Leo took off before the jester could respond.

"Screw me," Sabin muttered. "How are we going to get through with _Kefka_ on patrol?"

"Is he observant?" Shadow mused.

"A madman has his eyes _everywhere_," the monk insisted. "And what's more, I bet you double or nothing on your bill that he's gonna do _something_ dirty. We need a distraction."

Shadow huffed. "You just need a distraction?"

Sabin turned to him. "Well, yeah," he admitted, "but-"

"Wait here."

+x+x+x+

"Two units of Gestahlian Imperial Magitek Armour, on the approach!"

The sentries spotted the marching mechs from an hour away. At the call, the commander made his way to the high tower. "Why would they send the mechs?" he mused. "They _know_ those things are too big for the doors."

"But they're big _enough_ that the soldiers will be able to scale the walls," one sentry added.

"Have Garamonde guard the front wall," the commander ordered. "Instruct him to capture their weapons and throw them inside. If we get any guns with voltage shots, we should be able to disable their ability to climb and shut down any further approach to boot."

"Sir!"

+x+x+x+

"I think he just ditched me."

Time always passes slower when you're waiting, but Sabin was pretty sure he had been sitting behind the half-busted wall for a fair while since Shadow had taken off. Kefka had retreated into a nearby tent and was humming some nonsense tune, and though Sabin had managed to block it out, he was still bored as hell just _waiting_.

"Kefka, sir!"

A soldier's voice from inside the tent caused Sabin to listen closely. "What do you want?" the clown demanded.

"Our troops haven't managed to any advance on Dom..." The soldier trailed off for a moment before demanding, "_What_ is **that**?"

"Thank you so much for asking!" Kefka cheered. "It's a little something I snuck along from Vector. The scientists were calling it 'Ifrit's hindquarters'. Apparently, you prime it, throw it, and then the second that something _fleshy_ touches it, it stinks the whole place up. Like, _UGH_. The stink sample smelled like a wet monkey turd. It smells so bad I think it's supposed to be poison. Then you count to six, and _then_ it sets the gas on fire. They said it hasn't been tested yet, so I figured I'd give it a field go."

The soldier sounded appalled. "Kefka, sir, Doma Castle is not a closed battlefield. Even if that Old-Speaking samurai doesn't let us in, the gas could spill over the walls. The explosion could get our troops!"

"They said it's made to rise," Kefka mused. "And besides, you all said you're willing to die for the Empire, right? If Gestahl asks, I'll say you got in the crossfire."

"What?!"

Sabin had heard enough. "Oh, screw this!" he roared, lashing one hand to the side and letting it shift to form a scissor claw.

A gun was cocked. "Who's there?"

The monstrel tore through the tent cloth, shifting his hand back the second he had a hole to tear into. Kefka was standing there, holding a silver, spherical shape marked with a red face, and the soldier had a pistol in his hand. In an instant, Sabin kicked the gun out of the soldier's hands, causing it to fire at the roof of the tent; flames burst out, causing Kefka to swear. He and the soldier charged out, leaving Sabin running after them.

A few soldiers had noticed the flames, and the second Kefka saw them, he pointed at the monk and shouted, "Shoot him!"

Sabin glared at them.

The men took off.

"Oh, screw you guys," the clown muttered, taking off.

"Hold it!" Sabin protested.

"Well, _duh!_" Kefka insisted, turning around and running backwards without losing any momentum. "It's a prototype! I think this thing's gonna prime if I drop it!"

"That's _not_ what I meant!" Sabin growled, starting forward.

A loud barking sounded.

Kefka spun round to see a jet-black dog charging him, a knife gripped in its mouth. With a curse, he leapt over over the dog, who proceeded to leap after him and drive the knife into his leg. The clown hit the ground rolling, colliding with one leg of a suit of Magitek Armour; he quickly got to his feet and clambered up as the dog rushed towards him.

Someone was already in the pilot's seat.

"Oh, for fu-"

Shadow grabbed him by the collar and threw him over the suit, turning to Sabin. "I thought you wanted a distraction!" he snapped.

"That monster's got a toxic bomb!" Sabin shouted back. "He's gonna toss it in Doma!"

"There goes my pay," Shadow muttered, leaping off the mech. Interceptor quickly rushed towards the clown, who only turned around and kicked the animal in the throat. Shadow quickly reached under his garb and drew out a set of three shuriken; the thrown stars dug into Kefka's back, but the clown didn't react much more than a fierce yelp.

"Would you idiots get in those machines and _fry these bastards!_" he shouted at the nearest soldiers.

Sabin groaned, lashing his hands down - and the soldiers yelped when his hands shifted into scissor claws, spikes surging out of his shoulders. "Is your dog alright?" he asked of Shadow.

The assassin snapped his fingers; the hound in question rushed between the two of them, blade in maw, and the soldiers quickly took off, four of them getting in the machines.

"Then take him, and take off," Sabin insisted. "Send the bill to Figaro when you're safe."

"You said I _could_ take off when I got you through," Shadow protested.

"Meaning I'm not paying you for anything else," Sabin reminded.

"I lost the bet," Shadow observed. "My pay is out anyways, I might as well lend you a hand."

Interceptor rushed back to him, and Shadow took the knife from his dog's maw, bracing it before him.

"That was a joke," Sabin insisted.

Shadow shrugged. "Then this is just on the house."

+x+x+x+

Fighting four Magitek Armour required some caution, but it was no great exercise. The real problem, however, came with the fact that it _let Kefka get away_ \- as the mechs fell, the harlequin was on the approach to Doma Castle. The Magitek Armours had collapsed, and several soldiers' bodies were fallen at the base of the walls, but that was of little relevance as far as he was concerned; as he looked over the bomb, trying to figure out how to prime it, he heard a cry of "Halt!"

The clown raised his gaze to see a man in armour leap from the wall, a sheathed kodachi in his hands. Cyan landed not far from the Imperial attacker, rolling to his feet and bracing his sword before him. "What be thy business here?"

Kefka only rolled his eyes, looking over his bomb. He found what he was looking for; a small switch located between two spikes, and he promptly reached in and flicked it, preparing to throw.

Cyan drew his kodachi.

The harlequin was standing behind him when the swipe passed, and the samurai could only turn as Kefka hurled the weapon into the walls of Doma Castle. With a whirl, he brought his blade towards Kefka's side, but the clown ended up standing behind him; he quickly raised his blade heavenward and lashed it down, only for Kefka to set one foot on it.

"You're fast," he mused.

"Thou art no slouch, thyself," Cyan snapped.

He twisted his weapon to lash it upward, but Kefka only sidestepped the blow; Cyan brought it into a diagonal swing earthward, but the clown found himself standing half a foot from the tip of the blade. The samurai surged forward with intent to slice him with a pass, but Kefka slid under the blow and made to kick him in the back; Cyan caught the foot on the flat of his blade and tried to retaliate, only to miss the harlequin by by moments.

Then a fierce _hiss_ surged from the direction of Doma, and Kefka and Cyan both turned to the castle as a noxious red gas started to rise from inside. Kefka's expression became one of worry, and he quickly took off back towards the Imperial camp.

Cyan ran in the opposite direction, charging towards the castle without bothering to sheathe his sword. _A poison weapon...! The King! Elayne! Owain!_ With his speed, he reached the sealed castle doors in an instant, realizing too late that he had given no signal to the men that he would be outside the walls, and so no one had prepared ropes.

No sooner had he made to call out than there was a sound like metal striking metal, and a massive explosion **consumed** the gas within the castle walls; though the stone walls of Doma were firm enough to withstand it, the obstruction laid in the entryway were not so sturdy, and the blast that threw Cyan from his feet shattered the barricade, casting bricks around him as he flew back.

He hit the ground rolling, arriving on his feet; he could see inside the castle, and he very nearly wished he could not.

"_Nooooo!_"

For the most vicious of flames coated every surface within Doma, and what men he could see were naught but burning flesh.

A long moment passed in horror; then fury adorned his face, and he whirled towards the Imperial camp, sword and sheath still in his hands.

+x+x+x+

"I wonder if he's figured out what's inside these things?"

Knowing as they did that chasing Kefka would be a fool's errand at this point, Sabin and Shadow had taken a pair of Magitek Armours and braced them across from each other at the Doman end of the camp, prepared to blast the moment Kefka arrived. The monk was murmuring idly to himself as Shadow kept his eyes out for Kefka's return; Edgar had before inquired as to how Magitek Armours functioned, and Sabin would admit to being slightly curious himself.

Shadow's call prompted him to turn. The imperial harlequin was running full-throttle towards the Imperial Camp, his face one of panic within the painted smile; the two of them quickly grasped the controls, ready to freeze him solid the second he was close enough.

They fired when Kefka was close enough to get caught.

He managed to slide under the beams of ice as they passed ineffectively through each other; the second the ice started to spread, Sabin and Shadow leapt from the mechs before they froze solid.

"That didn't work," Sabin muttered, turning towards Kefka as the Imperial clown got to his feet. "Wait!"

"Gotta run gotta run now!" Kefka screeched, taking off again.

Shadow grabbed Sabin's shoulder before he could go after him. "I think _we_ may want to be the ones waiting," he advised.

He pointed in the direction of Doma, and Sabin looked past the frozen mech to see a figure in blue armour rushing towards the camp at _ridiculous_ speeds, a look of fury on his face. There was a blade in his right hand, its sheath in his left, and the second he caught sight of Sabin and Shadow he charged forward, raising his sword above his head with a fierce battle cry.

The skies seemed to grow dark.

Sabin managed to sidestep the earthward swing; Shadow had vanished by the time the blade hit the earth. A fierce flurry of nine wild blows followed, after which the armoured swordsman lashed into a spin that Sabin had to leap over. He landed next to the Magitek Armour that Shadow had been piloting; the armoured warrior whirled towards him and leapt forward, blade held back behind him and the sheath cast to the sand; he was nearly up in Sabin's face before he arced into a flip and grasped his weapon in both hands, and only the monk shifting his hands to claws and raising them before him stopped him from being cleaved in hand.

The samurai's feet hit the ground as he pried the blade from Sabin's claws - and that observation seemed to be what snapped him out of his rage. "A monstrel...! Thou cannot possibly be an ally of the Empire!

"Does this look like an Imperial uniform to you?!" Sabin demanded, beckoning at himself as his claws became hands again.

"A man in harlequin's garb with a painted face attacked mine home of Doma Castle with a weapon equal parts poison and explosion," the man snapped. "Do not tell me that a lack of uniform marks thy lack of allegiance with the Ghestalian Empire!"

"Fair enough," Sabin admitted. "You're looking for Kefka Palazzo. He just took off further in. He's probably ordering a retreat right now."

When the samurai made to march further in, Sabin stepped in front of him. "Hold on," he insisted. "He's going to order everyone to rain Ifrit on you. Even werewolves can't dodge a _wall of bullets_ larger than a castle antechamber without a full moon. You're not gonna stand a chance."

"I accept this challenge," the samurai mused.

"Oh, for the love of-"

There was no chance to react; in an instant, Sabin had the samurai over his shoulder by his sabatons. Shadow picked up the fallen kodachi, sliding it into its sheath (which Sabin had _not_ seen him pick up); then the two of them started towards the remaining unfrozen Magitek Armours.

"I refuse to pilot Imperial machines!" the swordsman protested, seeing where they were headed.

"Don't worry," Sabin assured him. "There's only two of them. You can ride with Shadow and Interceptor."

Shadow clambered up his mech quick; Sabin quickly shifted the samurai's weight so he could safely throw him in, then clambered up the other, starting it to move.

The samurai propped himself upright to see Interceptor was already in the cockpit.

"What's your name?" Sabin called.

"Cyan Garamonde," the samurai replied.

"Sabin Rene Figaro," the monk reciprocated. "Nice to meet you."

The arms of his mech started moving, and he lashed them back before punching one forward, then the other, and then both.

"Now, let's raise some hell."

* * *

Draco: Alright, I'm gonna break Sabin's branch into two pieces because it's huge as hell. Plus, otherwise I'm never going to give Gau a chapter named after his theme (or at least his place, I haven't decided yet).


	16. Savage Dance

Draco: Realized on the Phantom Train that the Imperial Captain at Doma does not _always_ drop a Black Belt. _UGH_.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Savage Dance**

"So, how do I get to Narshe from here?"

The Imperial Camp was a frozen mess, and the Magitek Armours had been blasted with each others' electrical beams. Shadow and Interceptor had taken off, leaving Sabin and Cyan at the Doma end of the camp.

"Narshe?" Cyan inquired. "Thou hast taken _quite_ the detour if thy destination is _Narshe_."

"I took the wrong route down a river and came out somewhere in the north," Sabin admitted. "How do I get there?"

"Through the forest to the south lie the Baren Falls," Cyan explained, "and riding their waters will take thee to the fierce plains known as the Veldt," Cyan explained. "If thou might travel to the village of Mobliz at the northerly end of the Veldt's eastern coast, the people there might be able to provide transportation to the Figaro region."

Sabin nodded. "Excellent."

He made to leave before Cyan caught his shoulder. "A moment," he insisted. "Why dost thou intend to travel to Narshe?"

"The Empire wants something in Narshe," Sabin explained. "We plan to defend it."

"Who is 'we'?"

"The Returners," was Sabin's reply. "If you're interested, you're free to join."

"I shan't allow any more suffering by the Empire's hands if I am capable of stopping them," Cyan insisted. "If thou wilt fight the Empire, I shall lend thee my blade."

Sabin smirked. "Glad to hear it."

+x+x+x+

The trip through the forest was uneventful enough, especially when compared to what had transpired in the Imperial camp - though Cyan seemed rather unnerved in the darker portions of the woods. Nonetheless, they made it through with little more than sticks in their hair and twigs in their shoes.

"So, how big is this waterfall?" Sabin asked.

"Art thou not a diamond scattered in the pile of gravel that is monstreldom?" Cyan countered. "Certainly water alone oughtn't pose any threat to thee."

"Even so, an impact with water like that is going to hurt," Sabin insisted. "And if we ride the fall down, there's still the matter of having to breathe."

Cyan angled his head. "I cannot speak for certain of the fall's size," he mused, in response to Sabin's initial question, "but Doman soldiers of old - _human_ soldiers, what's more - would often use the falls when needed at the Veldt, for it would be faster than waiting for a ship. I'm certain we shall be fine."

Sabin sighed. "If you're sure..."

"Sir Figaro," Cyan assured, "doth thou know of _any_ monster of less endurance than a human?"

"I heard abominable snowgirls are not particularly durable," Sabin mused.

Cyan cuffed him lightly. "Wiseass."

Sabin only laughed. "Alright, take me to the falls."

+x+x+x+

The Baren Falls were a pretty fierce ride; nonetheless, both of them managed to arrive more-or-less safely at the edge of the Veldt, both of them shaking the water off like wet dogs. Cyan took the lead, guiding Sabin across the plain - a good number of fierce animals inhabited the area, but they nonetheless made their way to the small community of Mobliz.

To their dismay, a trip to Figaro was not happening - the Empire had shot down their ships a fair while ago.

"So we came all this way, for nothing?" Sabin protested as the two of them took rest in a pub. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

The pub was quiet for a long moment. Cyan had a pensive look on his face, and Sabin was quick to notice. "Something the matter?"

"Whilst we crossed the Veldt," the samurai mused, "I took sight of something peculiar." When the monk showed interest, he continued, "A boy who looked rather... young, seemed to be there. He appeared to be wearing the hides of the beasts we fought on our way here. Didst thou not notice?"

"Can't say I did," Sabin admitted. "Why do you bring it up?"

Cyan glanced around the pub before leaning closer, prompting Sabin to do the same. "I felt a peculiar force from his direction every time I took sight of him," he admitted. "A monstrous energy that seemed to be in flux. I suspect he may be able to aid us."

"Aid... how?" Sabin did not quite understand.

"If my suspicions are correct," Cyan explained, "he will be able to take us short distances in travel - should we proceed to the eastern end of the Veldt, we could arrive at the Figaro region in a series of short trips."

Sabin got to his feet. "Alright, then," he mused. "Let's go find that boy."

+x+x+x+

Cyan advised they take a small meal to avoid coming across as threatening to the child; once they had a small assortment of dried meat, they made their way out onto the plains, Sabin holding the food.

"If he starts running," Sabin mused as they ventured on the plain, "you're the one who'll be able to keep up with him."

"And if he elects to attack," Cyan observed, "it will be thy combative skills that will fend him off without brining him harm."

Sabin nodded. "I guess you've got a poi-"

He was cut off when a very _unexpected_ impact slammed into his back, throwing him forward and into a roll. Another body tumbled with his briefly, but parted before too long - as did his grip on the meat. He quickly stopped on his feet, bracing his hands before him.

There was the boy Cyan had been speaking off. He did indeed seem to be rather young, with dirty blonde hair that looked absolutely uncared for with the exception of a rather large tail that he had most likely tied just to keep it out of his way. The tie looked to be of some sort of animal fibres; his only garments were a pair of what could generously be called 'shorts' and a drape over his shoulders that stopped before it was halfway down his torso. He stood with horrible posture, braced on the balls of his feet and hunched low, his hands near the ground like a sumo fighter.

The bag of meat was on the ground between them, and for a brief moment Sabin locked gazes with the child; then the two of them rushed towards it, trying to grab it. Sabin's larger frame worked to his advantage, but no sooner had he grabbed the meat than the boy had launched a flying tackle to knock him onto his back; Sabin tossed the meat in the general direction of Cyan before managing to pry the boy off of him.

"You know," Sabin reprimanded, getting to his feet, "if you'd ask nicely, we'd let you have some."

The boy let out a guttural cry, his hand going forward, and the monk had no chance to react before getting slugged in the face. Unprepared for the blow, he tumbled back, and the child looked around before seeing Cyan holding the meat. The samurai took notice, glancing between child and meal; as the boy rushed forward, Cyan pried the bag open and held out a small pile of sliced meat.

This brought the child to a skidding stop.

"Wouldst thou like something to eat?" Cyan asked.

His words caused the boy to angle his head. "...Thou?" His voice was rather rough, and he spoke as if he were unfamiliar with speaking.

"He's asking..." Sabin grunted weakly as he got to his feet again. "He's asking if you want some food," he said slowly.

The boy cried out again, grabbing the meat from Cyan's hands and eating it quickly and messily. Cyan winced lightly at the sight of his devouring of the food, but paid it no mind and simply closed the bag. "Thou art quite a voracious one," he observed.

"Thou!" the boy repeated again.

Sabin stepped forward. "My name is Sabin," he introduced. "This is Cyan. What is your name?"

"Gau!" the child cheered.

It was slightly unclear whether that was a name or just an exclamation. "You're... Gau?" Sabin asked.

"Gau!" he cheered again.

Cyan and Sabin exchanged glances and shrugged. "Very well," the samurai mused, turning back to him. "Sir... Gau. Might I ask-"

The child cried out, lunging for the bag, but Cyan managed to move it out of the way - fast enough that Sabin hardly noticed him moving - and stop him with the hand it had been in. "Prithee," Cyan insisted, "ask if thou wouldst like more!"

"Food!" Gau protested.

Sabin reached into the bag and drew out a few more slices, handing them to Gau - who devoured them just as quickly as before. "Look, um... Gau," he prompted. "We need your help."

Gau was done by the time he finished speaking. "Food!" he cried again.

"One moment," Cyan insisted. "Could-"

"Food!" the boy snapped.

"Wait," Sabin insisted.

"Food!"

Gau leapt at the food again, but Cyan managed to keep it away. "Patience, Sir Gau," he pleaded. "We ask thy assistance."

The child spun to face them. "Food!"

"We'll give you more food if you help us!" Sabin insisted.

Gau leapt at the food again.

This time Cyan didn't move it out of the way; rather, he moved _himself_ **into** the way, and as the boy connected with him he tossed the bag at Sabin. The two went into a tumble, and Sabin saw the samurai changing; by the time they came to a stop, Cyan's face had become decidedly _canine_, and he was holding Gau by the shoulders.

"For thy information," he told Sabin, "our speed depends on the moon's luminescence, not simply her phase."

"You know what I meant," the monk protested.

Gau looked at Cyan and cried out; and then, to Sabin's surprise, the _boy_ began to change, his body rippling, his exposed flesh covered in fur and his face elongating similar to Cyan's own. When the changes stopped, the _child_ was a werewolf as well.

"How is that supposed to help us?" Sabin demanded.

Cyan released the child's shoulders. "Keep the meat from him."

The boy rushed at Sabin, who only panicked and tossed the meat over the child's head before he could change direction. Cyan managed to catch it before it hit the ground, and the child slammed into Sabin, who had braced himself; the impact was no stronger than before, but this time he succeeded in holding his ground; he quickly trapped the boy's arms across his chest and gripped him tight.

"I thought as much!" Cyan mused, letting his face revert. "This boy is an onimodoki!"

"Onimo... He's a pseudo-demon?" Sabin asked, raising his gaze to the samurai.

"Verily," Cyan confirmed. "He can take on the physical traits of any monster whose form he has seen for himself - and although certain abilities which make use of monstrous _energy_ are inaccessible to him, anything that may rely on the form of the _flesh_ is his to work with." With Sabin still holding the child, he stepped forward, and the boy let his werewolf imitation fade as Cyan knelt down before him.

"Sir Gau," he asked, "art thou capable of taking a form with which thou can fly?"

With a low cry, Gau shook his head.

Cyan's expression fell. "Oh," he murmured. "Um..." He pondered for a moment. "Art thou capable of taking a form with which thou can... swim?"

Another cry sounded, this time as Gau nodded his head.

"Swimming won't help much," Sabin insisted. "The Empire _has_ ships."

"Verily," Cyan agreed. "Although..." He lowered his gaze to Gau. "Art thou capable of taking a form with which thou can swim _beneath_ the water?"

Gau nodded again with another cry.

"Wouldst thou be capable of allowing _us_ to travel beneath the water?"

Another nod and cry.

"...Safely?"

A fifth cry, and a fourth nod.

Cyan got to his feet. "Sir Figaro, release him."

"How does swimming underwater help us?" Sabin demanded, though he complied with the request. Gau looked curiously at the meat in Cyan's hands, having realized that leaping after it was not the ideal action.

"Sir Gau," Cyan told the boy. "If thou wilt promise to take us through the Serpent Trench and to the town of Nikeah, we shall allow thee the rest of this food. Upon arrival, thou art free to go thy own way, but thou art also free to join us if it pleases thee."

"You've _got_ to be Mulching me," Sabin protested.

Gau seemed to consider it for a moment; then he held his hand out to Cyan.

"Gau promise," he agreed.

Cyan took the hand and shook it firmly; once Gau had released his hand, the samurai handed him the meat.

+x+x+x+

"So, how are you going to get _us_ through the water?"

Gau had led Sabin and Cyan to a cave on the southern end of the Veldt, from which the sound of flowing water could be heard as they walked through it. At Sabin's question, Gau turned to face him, walking backwards as he did so. "Gau use trench before," the boy explained. "Many caves with air. We go in caves when you need air."

"I see," Cyan mused. "I suppose it shall suffice. The currents ought be fast enough that we should arrive at Nikeah before too long."

"Could you explain to me how going to _Nikeah_ will help us get to _Narshe?_" Sabin demanded.

Cyan turned to him. "Nikeah is a port town," he told Sabin, "and an active one at that. I..." He sighed heavily here. "I... can understand the Empire's reasoning concerning the destruction of _commuter_ vessels, but Nikeah's ships handle _cargo_ between the merchants there and those in Southern Figaro."

"And since South Figaro is under Imperial occupation," Sabin prompted, "they'll want the merchants stocked."

"Verily," Cyan agreed. "If we can but board a cargo vessel on route to Southern Figaro, we shall have our access to Narshe."

Gau's cry caught their attention, and both men turned to find they had reached an incline leading underwater. The boy was already in the water; his legs had been replaced by a long, finned tail, fins had protruded upon the sides of his head, and his face seemed cracked near his lips.

Sabin shuddered. "I will _never_ get used to those things."

Cyan nodded. "Verily."

* * *

Draco: Alright, I know this is only like half the length of the previous chapter, but you all know how it goes from here. Next one we'll jump to Narshe.


	17. Polemos

Draco: I have GOT to stop wiki walking. Or else learn to save more often. Ten tabs of Wikia ads crashed Chrome halfway through the counter-march scene. I always have it open in incognito windows because that _usually_ just shuts down the incognito tabs, but this one shut down the whole program _outright_. Finishing up, it's 3:15 AM and I am _not_ going to sleep tonight.

Seriously tempted to try and write the most _direct_ literation (novelization, whatever) I can, simply because I'm down to one active fic and I don't _dare_ try and do my usual twisting to _Final Fantasy Type-0_. It's going to be Arubboth and Pandaemonium all at the same time, and I'm not even going to be able to talk like that in the narrative.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Polemos**

"This _doesn't make sense_."

Terra, Banon, and Edgar had arrived at Narshe more-or-less safely, taking refuge in Arvis' house - Terra had been required to work the passage with Locke' knife, although it took her a few tries to figure out where the knife went on the inside. The flare dancer had retreated to the hidden storage cave, insisting that she needed some time alone; Banon had explained the situation to Arvis, and Edgar was pacing. Arvis was currently deep in thought, trying to figure out what he was missing.

"I saw her dancing, when she came here under the Empire's control," the Narshean Returner insisted. "The way her breath misted when she danced, the fire she was throwing around - it all screamed 'yoko'. But if she's got _lightning_ in conjunction with that..."

"A sorcerer, perhaps?" Banon offered. "She may just be inclined towards fire due to the Empire's methods-"

"It couldn't just be magic," Edgar insisted, stepping into the room. "When she was at Figaro, Kefka had the stones on fire." Banon and Arvis both gave him a look, and he raised a hand in apology. "I don't get that either. In any case, she managed to suck up the flames. As in, _inhaled them directly_. That's something only a yoko can do.

Banon hummed. "Maybe a monstrel, then?" he inquired. "They sometimes inherit mixed traits like that-"

He was interrupted again, this time by Arvis. "The flame-draw, _maybe,_ but they can't pick up something like offensive fire."

"Arvis!"

The voice from the door caused everyone to turn, making their way out. A Narshean guard was standing there, cane in hand; upon receiving their attention, he spoke up. "We got a warning from Castle Figaro. Imperial troops are on the approach!"

"Gestahl must still want his prize," Edgar mused. "What's the status of the frozen thing from the mines?"

"We relocated it to the high cliffs," the guard insisted. "We'll have to stop them before they get there!"

Arvis nodded. "Edgar," he instructed, "make sure she's ready." The Figaro king took off further in. "Banon," the Narshean added, turning to the Returners' leader, "ring Locke and figure out where he is." Banon stepped aside as he drew out his phone, and Arvis turned to the guard.

"You, get me an audience with the town elder."

+x+x+x+

Locke arrived while they were waiting for the elder to come, and he had with him someone who took everyone by surprise. A woman in armour of gold, with amethysts embedded in her armour; a sword was sheathed at her hip, and blonde hair waved around her head.

"Where is she?" she inquired.

"I'm sorry," Arvis protested, "who are you?"

A tight sigh emerged from the woman. "Lady of the Frost, Celes Chere."

Everyone stepped back, taking defensive stances - and Celes was impressed that none of them chose to flee.

"Good," she observed, "you all know how to fight. This should make things easier."

Locke raised a hand. "She was imprisoned for treason," he explained. "She's disgusted by the Empire. I figure we could all use an extra hand. Where's the siren with the Feymarch wings?"

"They said it's on the high cliffs," Banon replied.

"That's not gonna cut it," Celes insisted. "I got their unit from a soldier who hadn't heard about me. They're sending _fifty_ Magitek Armour climber models, the pilots are gonna be armed with automatics full of Ifrit, and they're using it as a field test for a new crawler model. What do we have for numbers?"

Edgar stepped forward. "If we have the _single __greatest_ blessing of Lady Luck," he insisted, "Narshe will lend us a hand. Otherwise, it's the five of us."

Banon chuckled. "I'm flattered, honestly," he informed Edgar, "but I don't have the kind of durability to tangle with the Empire's machines right now. My dealing with Ultros has largely been distracting him while the other Returners actually set things up. The most I'll be able to do is keep an eye out."

"Four of us," Edgar corrected.

Celes groaned. "Wonderful," she muttered, turning to Locke. "I thought you said-"

A fierce knock on the door cut her off - and Edgar seemed to recognize it, just from the force. "That's Sabin!" he exclaimed.

Locke stepped forward, pulling the door open, Sabin was indeed standing there, along with a man in very _old-fashioned_ armour - with what looked like a sheathed _katana_ in one hand - and a young boy draped in animal hides - who didn't seem to be anything _resembling_ cold. "Brought some friends, did you?" he observed.

"Oh, no, these guys were in my pocket the whole time," Sabin replied sarcastically.

The treasure hunter stepped aside, allowing the Figaro prince and his companions inside. "How in the world did you get here from that end of the river?" Banon asked.

"Long story," Sabin insisted. "Introductions?" He beckoned to the man in the armour. "This is Cyan Garamonde of Doma. And this kid," he added, beckoning to the child, "is Gau. We found him on the Veldt."

The boy, Gau, gave a worldless cry that nonetheless sounded friendly.

"Pleasure to me thee," Cyan insisted.

Locke chuckled lightly at his choice of words, but Sabin only shot him a glare that shut him up. "Sorry," he insisted. "I'm Locke Cole, treasure hunter."

"King Edgar Roni Figaro," the machinist introduced.

Celes bowed her head. "And I am-"

"_Celes Chere!_"

Cyan's shout was the only warning anyone received - no one had time to even _face_ Cyan before he had Celes against the wall by the _neck_. His sheathed weapon only hit the ground _after_ the impact had knocked a good mouthful of blood out Celes' lips and across her attacker's face, and everyone gave a shout of horror as Cyan began to roar. "Thou wouldst _dare_ to show thy face before a gathering such as this, after what thy allies have done!?"

"Cyan, what the _hell!_" Edgar shouted, stepping forward.

The samurai struck the machinist across the face with his empty hand, not even looking in his direction; his gaze was focused on Celes, who managed to turn her gaze on him.

Her sapphire eyes gleamed, briefly becoming so light as to nearly blend with her corneas.

What blood she had coughed up over Cyan's face chilled suddenly, and he had no time to retort before _ice_ covered his face. The Lady of the Frost was generous enough to leave gaps in the ice leading to his nose and mouth, such that he would not suffocate; he stumbled back with a roar, leaving Celes to double over retching as the pressure on her throat began to fade.

Cyan grabbed at the ice on his face for a brief moment, struggling to break it off; when that failed, he growled low, and the ice struggled to maintain its form as his face _elongated._ Soon enough, the frost shattered, revealing the werewolf's visage that had formed beneath it and prompting _everyone_ to step back. Celes raised her gaze at the Doman warrior, breathing heavily.

"For a swordsman," she praised genuinely, "you've got one hell of a neck grip."

The samurai had no time to approach before something with a much more _powerful_ grip closed on his arm, and he glanced down to see a scissor claw closed on his arm - though only enough to hold him. Sabin was standing there, and the moment he had the werewolf's attention he shouted, "Cyan, _enough_."

Cyan's other hand went forward.

Sabin raised _his_ other hand, which had yet to transform; the punch was caught at arm's length, and he angled his head. "Did you really think you could punch a monk in the face?" he inquired.

The Doman surged his _head_ forward, and Sabin couldn't react before it connected; the impact loosed his grip, prompting Cyan to pull his arm and hand away; nonetheless, he had no chance to approach Celes before Locke was standing there, between them.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" he demanded.

Celes grabbed his shoulder. "Locke, don't," she insisted, pushing him aside. Turning to Cyan, she mused, "Let me guess: Kefka was involved."

"A toxic weapon, thrown over the walls of Doma Castle!" Cyan shouted. "Poison mist, cast into every orifice, sunken into the system of every man, woman, _and child!_ And then _ignited_, to loose a blast that _shattered stone_, and left _flesh charred!_ I refuse to ally myself with _any_ who would serve alongside the man who _concocted_ such a weapon, let alone the one who _made use of it!_"

"Why do you think I left?"

The words cut Cyan off abruptly. Celes shook her head in disgust. "Kefka Palazzo is a madman, despised by everyone in the Gestahlian Imperial army. Leo Cristophe is hailed as bearing _incomparable_ presence of mind for _acknowledging_ that he is _twisted beyond reason_ and not talking _about_ him or _to_ him like _the monster he is_, despite holding rank enough to do so without reprisal. He got me imprisoned on grounds of treason because I reprimanded a soldier for casting Ifrit on _three innocent dancers_."

At this point, she drew her sword, revealing the edge - and everyone saw that the sword's blade was lined with _arcane_ patterns. "But just as well. I have learned that unforgivable, _unacceptable_, and _barbaric_ actions have been conducted on Imperial orders. And Kefka is only one of many at fault. I refuse to associate with the Gestahlian Empire. A show Kefka put on for his own amusement, to be rid of someone with _morality_ and _humanity_, has only ensured the Empire knows the Lady of the Frost will fight against them."

She stepped forward.

"Cyan Garamonde, if you will oppose the Empire, then I would very much like that the only cross of our swords is to raise our spirits, or bar their way."

There was a long moment of hesitation.

Then Cyan sighed heavily, his face beginning to mold back into a human visage, and he knelt down to pick up his sword. "Thy words art honourable," he admitted, "and the fury within them bears enough fire to make me question the ice with which thou stuck me." His hand on the weapon's sheath, he continued, "Alas, words, as an indication of allegiance, art hollow, and cannot be taken for the value they bear at the surface."

Sabin stepped forward. "Cyan-!"

"However," the samurai continued, "they shall suffice - until such time as thou might prove thy allegiance with thy actions."

He drew his kodachi from its sheath, and held it before him.

Celes smirked. "Those are the most trustworthy words I've heard all day."

She braced her sword before her, and made to set the flat of her blade against that of Cyan's.

Footsteps from nearby caught the former general off-guard, and she turned as a nearby door opened, revealing a face she recognized.

"..._Terra!?_"

No sooner had the name passed her lips than the face of the girl they belonged to contorted in pain, and a gasp of torment caused both swords to fall to the ground - a surface she soon connected with for herself.

+x+x+x+

_"General Chere?"_

_To say that she could move not but her eyes would be a generosity. What she could see was as unchangeable as a projected image - she could block out the happenings, but that would not stop them from being there, and sooner or later she would see them again._

_She could only watch, from within, as her body marched after the Emperor, the man who had kept the control of her flesh from her mind for as long as her memory lasted. They had stepped into a war room, and now a woman adorned in golden armour turned towards them. Upon seeing the General, she stood straight, setting one hand over her chest and bowing formally. "Emperor Gestahl," she greeted. "Who might this be?"_

_"This is Terra Branford," Gestahl introduced. "She's been under training in a remote base. As of today, she will be serving as a critical measure during our invasion forces. I saw fit to show her around, make sure everyone who needs to is aware of who she is."_

_The lies were flawless - the General, who looked to be a very attentive woman, did not seem to notice any falsification, simply__ nodding to acknowledge she understood. "Very well," she mused. Stepping towards Terra, she held her hand out. "General Celes Chere," she introduced. "Pleasure to meet you."_

_No matter how many times her mouth opened, words would always struggle to pass between her lips. "...Pleasure... to meet... you..."_

_Her hand reached forward, and the chill of the General's armoured hand caught her mind off-guard; her body, however, made no motion to indicate anything was abnormal, and the General's hand shook her own without resistance._

+x+x+x+

"Terra? Terra!"

Celes had propped the dancer against one arm, trying to rouse her; Terra's eyelids parted, ever-so-slightly, but there was no indication it was even a conscious movement, let alone that she could hear what Celes was saying.

A fierce knock on the door drew everyone's attention away from the two former Imperials. "Arvis! You wanted to see me?"

"It's the town elder," Arvis warned.

The Lady of the Frost muttered a thick curse. "Locke, help me get her to the back room."

As soon as Terra was out of sight, Arvis pulled the door wide open, to avoid any suspicions of hiding something. "Elder," he greeted. "Glad you would come."

"Cut the formalities," the elder insisted, stepping inside and looking at everyone there - Locke stepped out of the back room with a convincing yawn, as though to indicate he had been sleeping (and thus eliminating suspicion of why he was in the back room). "With a gathering like this, something important is up."

"Imperial Troops are on the march," Edgar informed him. "They want the rainbow-wing from the mines."

The elder groaned. "Honestly?" he demanded. "I've half a mind to just give it to them."

Banon stepped forward. "We cannot afford to let them take it," he mandated.

"_You_ do not **want** to let them take it," the elder corrected. "I see no reason not to let the Empire take it back as cargo."

"That's a living being!" Banon snapped.

"It was frozen in ice!" the elder countered. "Even assuming that _thing_ was _ever_ alive, do you _really_ think it's going to have survived being frozen for Asura knows how long?"

Arvis stepped forward. "Are we just going to ignore the fact that that ice _burns to the touch_?" he inquired. "It's not just _frozen_ \- that's not normal ice."

The elder growled. "Whatever it is, and whatever it's _doing_, it's only brought Narshe more harm than good," he insisted. "I see no harm that will come from letting the next set of Imperial troops march in here, take it, and march back out."

"You really think they're going to settle for that?"

Celes' voice caught everyone off-guard, the Lady of the Frost was stepping out of the back room. "You're talking about the Gestahlian Imperial army," she warned. "They're sending fifty Magitek Armour climbers, and a prototype crawler. If Kefka Palazzo so much as _hears soldiers talking about it_, he's going to mandate that they test the crawler on your buildings, if not your people. And if _anyone_ except Leo Cristophe is in charge of the march, they're going to occupy this town the moment you let them in."

The elder seemed to recognize her. "You're-"

"_Former_ Imperial general, Celes Chere," she confirmed. "I left the Empire, because I learned firsthand that me and Leo are the only ones who aren't going to shoot down an innocent for _looking at us work_. If you let the Empire take the flaming ice, you'll never see Narshe as it ought be _again_."

"Narshe is a neutral city," the elder protested. "So long as we do not ally with the Returners, or anyone who would act against them, we-"

"Have nothing to fear from the Empire, is that thy belief?"

Cyan's words turned the elder's gaze. The samurai had his arms crossed, and a stern look on his face. "Such was the belief of mine home of Doma, as well," he informed the elder. "For that, poison and fire ravaged the castle. I am the only one who survived." Stepping forward, he added, "If I were thee, I would not make the same mistake."

The elder grunted lightly, frustrated. "What do you want us to do?" he demanded. "You want us to die for you? Because you don't want the Empire to get at that thing?"

"Nay," Cyan corrected. "I am simply asking thee to consider the following. Which wouldst thou rather have occur, not only to thee, but to thy citizens: a life with meaning, or a death filled with regret?"

His eyes seemed to gleam darkly.

"The Empire will inflict the latter unto thee, if thou wilt not accept the former. Dost thou value the lives of thy people?"

The elder scoffed. "I'll not be belittled by-"

"_Dost thou wish for thy citizens to die by the Empire's hands!?_"

Celes stepped forward, causing the elder to turn to her. "Have all thy..." She stopped herself with a grunt half of amusement, half of irritation, rolling her eyes at Cyan before restarting. "Have all the citizens take refuge in the mines. We can't stop them from getting into Narshe - Magitek Armour has too much advantage on level terrain - but we _can_ stop them from getting the rainbow-wing. You can look at your city afterwards; _then_ you can tell me whether neutrality will spare you the Empire's wrath.

"In other words: _we_ are **willing** to die for _you_."

She knelt down, picking up her fallen sword and sliding it into its sheath on her hip.

"And you'd best **consider** before _refusing_ to do the same."

The elder clenched his jaw briefly, glancing around at everyone's stares. "Fine," he insisted. "We'll evacuate everyone to the inner mines. The outer caves lead to the high cliffs."

"I know," Celes insisted. As the elder left the building, she turned to everyone. "Shall we get going?"

Edgar chuckled. "I imagine a former general would have the best mind here for battle strategy," he admitted.

"And a king doesn't?" Celes countered

"I'm a machinist," Edgar insisted, "not a warmonger."

Celes shrugged. "Fair enough," she admitted. "Let's head to the high cliffs, I need to see it before I can plan." As they all started to depart, she grabbed Locke's shoulder. "Not you," she corrected. "I need to you keep an eye on Terra."

"No need."

The voice caused both of them to turn to see the flare dancer standing in the doorway to the inner room. Her gaze was on the floor before her, but she did not need the support of the doorframe; her posture was steady, and slowly, she raised her gaze to Celes.

"It's been a while... General Chere."

+x+x+x+

"Fifty-one mechs for a pickup at this dump seems like overkill."

The Empire knew that the frozen siren had been relocated - as a result of some long-range surveillance from the airship that had been sent to pick up Kefka from Figaro - but the furthest ridge of the high cliffs were not a place they could send an airship safely. And now, the Imperial troops had arrived; everyone in Magitek Armour, and everyone with a firearm full of Ifrit. The pilots for the climbers all had machine guns ready; the captain, in the crawler (a four-legged mech with beam ports on the front _and_ on the underside), had a rifle.

On hearing the comment from a nearby soldier, the captain only chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Well," he admitted, "the General _does_ like his overkill. Alright, let's go. Which mine leads to the high cliffs again?"

It took a while for them to get through the outer mines - this was the first field test for the crawler model, and the simulations didn't _really_ match up to Narshean terrain - but soon enough, they had made it to the exit leading to the high cliffs. Sadly, the terrain there was much more unkind; a maze carved into the stone, with little more than enough room for the climbers to pass through. With an irritable groan, the captain rose in his seat and turned to his company. "Screw it," he muttered. "Men, get the Emperor's prize. I'll keep an eye on the rear in case any of those cowards try to attack us from behi-"

"You've arrived already, have you?"

The voice from behind caused the captain to spin round. Standing there was a familiar figure - gold armour, embedded amethysts, blonde hair, icy eyes. "Traitor Chere!" he snapped.

The former general seemed unimpressed. "_Traitor_ Chere?" she mused. "That's gonna take some getting used to." With a shake of her head, she continued, "Anyways, I'm here to give you a message."

"Screw you!" the captain snapped, reaching into his cockpit. His rifle was locked and loaded, and he quickly raised it at the woman before him and fired; the moment the shot connected, the former general's form was _draped in fire_, and when it faded, there was no indication she had been there.

"The Returners and their allies are positioned here."

Celes' voice came from the left, and the captain quickly whirled around, firing again - and again, the flame left no body behind.

"We won't let you have the frozen siren with the rainbow wings."

From the right this time; the captain turned again with another shot, but this one, too, left no trace of her presence.

"But Narshe has refused to defend the flaming ice."

The voice came from right behind his mech this time; the captain leaned out the back of the cockpit and fired point-blank, only to draw back in when the flames threatened to lick back up the barrel and ignite the Ifrit rounds still inside.

"Whoever stands in your way here..."

The former general was in the same place she had initially been; the captain's worries of a premature detonation were unfounded, for the pull of his trigger sounded only an empty click.

"...none of them are citizens of this city."

The men directly behind him raised their machine guns, emptying an entire clip into the figure before him while he reloaded; when the flames subsided, there was nothing but water soaking into burnt grass. Yet, even as they watched, the water began to rise, freezing over as it formed the face and body again.

"All that the people of Narshe will do..."

Only once the frozen figure was complete did colour flood it - gold armour, embedded amethysts, blonde hair, and icy eyes.

"...is see whether the Empire will respect a neutral city."

The captain scoffed, raising his rifle over his shoulder. "Figure they're seen already," he snapped. "General Palazzo specifically told us-"

"**General** _Palazzo!?_" Celes demanded, incredulous. "How the...? Oh, hell with it," she protested, turning away and lashing one hand up.

The figure froze when her hand was at the peak of the swing; cracks raced across it, the colour vanishing, and the captain swore, diving into his cockpit as it _burst_, throwing shards everywhere; the moment he was certain it was gone, he turned to his men.

"Blast _anything_ that gets in front of you with the fire beams!" he shouted. "And shoot _anyone_ who isn't with us the _second_ you see them!"

+x+x+x+

"Who in their right mind would give _Kefka_ a position like **general**?"

Celes opened her eyes, pulling her hands off the amethyst on her gauntlets. She was at the approach to the furthest ridge of the high cliffs; at her statement, Locke only shook his head. His shoes had been removed so his bladed feet would not tear through them; a hook emerged from one hand, holding a knife, whilst his other one had its fingers arced into hooks. "You're sure Gestahl is in his right mind?" he inquired.

He didn't received a response; Celes only gave him a firm glare. "You ready?"

The treasure hunter only chuckled. "Of course."

The Lady of the Frost turned back to Terra, who was standing slightly further back. "Terra?"

The flare dancer nodded - she had no weapon on her, but she did not _need_ one. "Yeah."

Everyone else was already spread throughout the maze as the Magitek Armour climbers began to move. "Shut down the mechs, and take out the pilots," Celes warned. "They _do not_ make the ridge!"

The maze converged into three paths, and now the three of them still at the ridge took off - Locke down the left, Celes down the right, and Terra right down the middle. Almost immediately did they encounter branching paths, yet none of them found any significant trouble from it. The treasure hunter's quick feet revealed his 'fork' was simply a loop that parted and then converged again, leaving him free to advance without worry; meanwhile, the former Imperials took a gamble on their branches and found that they met up; Celes proceeded to take the other path, leaving Terra to position herself in the join, awaiting the first Magitek Armour pilot unfortunate enough to arrive.

Locke's quick feet took him down faster than the others had; he found Cyan fighting a pair of mechs with his kodachi still sheathed, taking cover when they fired the beams and sidestepping the bullets as only a werewolf can do. He was doing nothing to actually _stop_ the soldiers, however; with a roll of his eyes, Locke skated by and ripped out a set of wires from each machine, causing them to collapse. The soldiers had only time to pull their machine guns from the cockpits before they were struck down with shots of compressed water - for the wild child, Gau, had bundled up, taken the form of a merman, and positioned himself on the highest ledge on this side.

"I am not good with machines," Cyan defended.

"Yeah, no kidding," Locke observed. "These'll stop 'em here, let's head further down."

Celes, meanwhile, had found that her other path took her to an apparent dead-end; above it, however, was a ledge connected to a path from below, and she was not willing to risk a mech dropping down. She quickly clambered up and continued walking, finding herself face-to-face with a climber whose pilot quickly blasted the fire beam. She managed to get behind the uneven surface of the cliff walls until the beam subsided; then the air around the mech chilled, freezing the circuits and shutting it down - though trapping it in place. The pilot grabbed his machine gun and fired, but Celes only swept her hand skyward, raising a wall of ice that managed to last the whole clip and still remain something she could duck behind.

"Sure, fight the Lady of the Frost in the snowfields of Narshe, that'll end well." Her voice dripped with sarcasm; she quickly kicked the remaining ice, causing it to shatter and fly forward. The icicles drove themselves into the soldier, throwing him from his mech and down the cliff; another three mechs had followed him up the cliff, and she quickly clambered up the disabled one as they blasted their fire beams towards her. Uncomfortably warm, but unharmed, she quickly positioned herself between the cliff and the wall and pushed the mech off the cliff, causing it to tumble into another path and crush another climber; the other pilots approaching her found themselves picked off one-by-one by Edgar's crossbow from the _other_ high ledge.

The join Terra was positioned in was worryingly close to the access to the siren's ridge, but she managed to keep herself calm; rather than her usual dance pose, she stood facing the wall towards the mines, one hand to either side with the palms both facing skyward, and her eyes were closed, such that her ears would be stronger to compensate. She could hear Magitek Armour approaching on either side, at unequal paces; the left seemed closer for but one step, then the right would be closer for a single stomp.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Her eyes snapped open, and she raised her right hand skyward, heat licking at her feet. The soldier had no time to notice before she leapt into a flip, throwing a bolt of flame into one leg of his mech; the strike had enough force to topple it. The one approaching on her right heard the strike and turned his mech towards it, loosing the fire beam without bothering to check who he was aiming at; Terra pressed herself into the stone, letting the flames surge through and vaporize the other pilot, before pulling herself out and spinning into a leap towards him.

The soldier seemed to notice. "Flare Dancer! _They have Flare Dance-!_"

Her foot struck his machine, and voltage surged through it; the pilot screamed as the lightning tore through the cockpit's insulation and into his flesh. Another mech was coming, and she quickly propelled herself from the discharging machine and leapt into a spin; the pilot had only time to scream before another bolt of fire struck the front rim of his cockpit, knocking it over and showering him with flame to boot.

Another mech heard the cries and was coming through the join; Terra quickly stepped back, lashing another bolt into the mech. The pilot had triggered the fire beam before it had toppled over, and he ended up immediately before it as the flames were launched; the moment it was safe to do so, Terra crossed the join, raising her hands to dance.

Several climbers were already torn up and turned on each other there, and Sabin stood with his hands forming scissor claws, spikes jutting out of his shirt.

"You didn't think I was gonna let you have all the fun, did you?" he taunted.

Terra only turned back to the join, stepping to the other path; Sabin only sighed, shifting one hand back to normal just long enough to scratch the back of his head.

The combination of disabling mechs, sniping the pilots, and the horror of realizing _Flare Dancer_ was fighting with the Returners meant that fifty mechs were not making a lot of progress. Leaving the disabled climbers to obstruct the path meant that even those who got past their patrol were obstructed long enough for the patrols to find them again, or the snipers to take them out; soon enough, Terra, Celes, Locke, Edgar, Sabin, Cyan, and Gau had eliminated all the climbers and were approaching the captain in the crawler.

"After what happened at Doma," Cyan observed as the captain scrambled to reload his rifle, "I thought giving that madman troops would make him _more_ threatening, not _less_."

The captain tried to fire at them, but walls of ice forged of Narshean snow shut down one bullet without hardly trying; granted, the impact meant Ifrit's fire melted it a lot more at once than the machine guns had, but the longer gap between shots meant any melting could quickly be undone. The captain quickly scrambled around the cockpit, triggering the fire beam; the group only stepped aside, letting it slam ineffectively into the stone behind them.

They were _not_ expecting him to rear the crawler, revealing a _second_ beam port on the underside.

That proved impractical when the recoil flipped the crawler the rest of the way, and a sickening _crunch_ indicated that the captain was not going to be piloting anymore.

"That," Celes criticized, "is the _single_ most _ineffective_ Imperial attack I have _ever_ seen in my _entire life_."

"Likewise," Edgar agreed.

Sabin rolled his shoulder, causing the spikes to recede as his claws became hands again. "Shall we go check out that flaming ice, then?" he mused.

Gau gave a cry of cheer, his body shifting to become humanoid once again.

Cyan chuckled. "I imagine sighting the siren will let thee bear wings," he told the child.

"I wonder how he ended up frozen in _burning_ ice," Locke wondered, letting his hooked hand become fingered once more. "That _can't_ have been an accident."

Terra was silent, and Celes noticed. "Is something wrong?" she asked the dancer.

"I... I don't understand," Terra murmured. "Aren't the soldiers in the Empire... human?"

The former General bit her tongue nervously. "Um... most of them," she admitted. "But why does that-?"

Then a menacing, _cackling_ laugh echoed from above, and everyone who had started walking turned round at the sound. Terra had a much different reaction; a gasp of pain tore through her lips, and she doubled over, grabbing at her helm. Celes reached for her sword - which had been sheathed through the whole battle - and raised her gaze towards the sound. "That voice - that _laugh!_"

"_Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's **KEFFY!**_"

From the top of the mines emerged a horrifying figure in red, green, blue, yellow, and white, with a crimson grin painted on an already insane face; Kefka Palazzo landed on the inverted mech with enough force to sound _another crunch from beneath it_, perching on the balls of his feet with his arms draped over his knees. Upon sighting the gathering, he popped up, cheering in excitement.

"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh ooh ooh! Traitor Chere! King Figaro! Prince Figaro! The dirty thief! The old-speaking samurai! Some kid who _really_ needs a haircut! And Terrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrra!" He arced into a spin, spreading his hands. "Wonderful! Everyone's here!"

Celes drew her sword, baring the arcane patterns. "_General_ Kefka Palazzo," she growled. "What the hell Gestahl's doing promoting _you_ I'll never know."

Kefka chuckled wildly. "He doesn't care _who_ does it," he insists, "he just wants that thing!"

Cyan unsheathed his kodachi. "If thou dost truly believe we shall allow thee to proceed," he warned, "thou art _sorely_ mistaken!"

"Huh," Kefka hummed. "I'm going to assume that's Etheldredda for 'You shall not pass' and just say _wrooooooong!_"

He hopped back and hooked his foot under the rim of the overturned crawler's cockpit, and everyone _shouted_ when they saw the Magitek Armour **flip over** like a glass plate. It landed on the dead captain again, and Kefka quickly hopped into the pilot's seat, slamming the button for the forward fire beam.

All but one leapt aside; Celes had to grab Terra to drag her out of the beam's path as it seared into the stone, the two of them landing next to Cyan and Gau as Edgar, Locke, and Sabin landed on the other side.

Edgar quickly raised his crossbow and fired at the mech, but Kefka only snatched the bolt out of the air, inches from his face, before throwing it back; the Figaro king's attempt at evasion only got an arrow in his shoulder. Sabin tried to rush the machine, intending to smash the leg, but Kefka moved it before he could react, kicking him across the access. Locke tried to get close enough to rip out its wires with his hooked hand, but Kefka managed to lean out of the mech, grab him before he could get close enough, and throw him on top of a still-rising Edgar, knocking both to the ground again. Gau shifted to the form of a merman again, firing a shot of compressed water, but it only _splashed over Kefka ineffectively_.

Terra managed to get upright, glaring at the Imperial general. "You...!"

"Come on," Kefka taunted, turning the mech towards them. "Let's _play!_"

Celes raised her sword.

Cyan raised his own.

And both of them were caught off-guard when Terra _wrenched the weapons out of their hands_, bracing the kodachi in her left hand and the arcane-patterned edge in her right.

Kefka's smile vanished. "Huh...?"

The blades turned once; then Terra arced into a spin as she stepped forward, leaping into the air - and Kefka _screamed_, scrambling back in the cockpit as she landed on the rim, both blades missing him by inches. With a whirl, she arced into a counterspin, lashing the samurai's sword into the control panel before bringing Celes' blade towards Kefka, who managed to tumble over the edge. He quickly kicked the underside of the Magitek Armour, sending it tumbling, but Terra only launched herself out when it was upside-down, landing in the Narshean snow and leaping towards Kefka with all the grace of any of her dances before it.

The patterns gleamed as Kefka rolled out of the way, tearing through his shirt and clipping his shoulder as she swept the kodachi towards him; he quickly forced himself just past the attack before getting to his feet. The others had recovered by this time, however; Edgar managed to land a shot in the leg, knocking him over. Gau started firing rapid shots of water, and though Kefka managed to evade those (just barely), he couldn't avoid Locke grabbing him with his hooked hand and dragging him into a throw at Sabin. The monstrel prince quickly grabbed Kefka with his hands - _not_ his claws - and dragged him into the air, slamming him next to Gau's water circle. Terra hurled the kodachi into the ground at Cyan's side, and the rapidly changing werewolf grabbed it out of the earth before rushing forward; Kefka acted at the last possible second and _still_ got a slash across the leg as he ended up in the middle of Gau's water circle, getting to his feet.

"That's it, you're gonna-!"

Then Terra handed Celes _her_ sword, and the water cast around Kefka _froze_ as Celes rushed up to him, her sword turning in her hand. The ice _shifted_ as she stepped upon it, propelling her into rapid circles around the clown, and she arced into a rapid spin, her edge lashing blows across his flesh; when she concluded, it was with a fierce blow that _threw_ him into the wall next to the mine entrance.

Terra stepped forward, bracing herself to dance - one forward, palm skyward, and the other skyward, palm forward.

Kefka growled, pushing himself off the wall; then he leapt, and everyone was astonished when he landed atop the mines, taking off with massive bounds.

* * *

Draco: Terra Lv10, Edgar/Celes/Locke Lv11, Sabin/Cyan/Gau Lv13. Terra and Cyan, Celes and Sabin, Gau and Locke and Edgar (battle poses and directional preferences mean I've got to have Gau on point because Locke just looks at Terra). Gau rages the Templar (because Fira is _so destructive_ at that level), Edgar spams Auto Crossbow (because if Gau multi-targets Fira it doesn't take anyone down), Sabin gets a Genji Glove and a pair of Mythril Claws (because I don't have Rising Phoenix), Cyan spams Fang (because I don't have Flurry), Terra and Celes focus on healing (because neither of them is high enough level to dance), and Locke just tries stealing (because he can't do any significant contributions to the offense). A couple throwaway rounds (because I _always_ mistake what paths go where), then I keep advancing every time there's a significant break in Imperials (because it speeds things up). Send Gau's team to take the Hell Rider (because that way he can snatch the Mythril Vest, then send Celes at critical (because she's fresh off a Phoenix Down and I want to try and use that) and send her to deal with Kefka (because otherwise my levels are too pathetic to survive his magical onslaught). Keep using Runic until Sabin's patched with potions and landed a few hits (because Kefka starts off the fight with physical attacks), then use a regular Attack from Celes (because I'm willing to take the risk). Spinning Edge could have almost taken him down on its own, and now I've _finally_ finished a battle with a Desperation Attack.

I feel so much more badass than I probably should right now.


	18. Black Genesis

Draco: I have not had nearly enough Coca-Cola to feel this awake at 3:30 AM. I can't even yawn.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Black Genesis**

"That... was... _amazing_..."

Locke, Edgar, Sabin, Cyan, Gau, Celes, and Terra were on their way through the maze of the high cliffs, their pace _excessively_ slow after the exertion they had put themselves through fighting Kefka. Everyone was _amazed_ at the way Terra had fought with Cyan's and Celes' swords.

"Honestly," Locke awed, "I haven't seen anyone use _one_ blade that gracefully, let alone manage it with _two_."

"And what's more," Cyan added, "thou didst attack with swords not meant to be wielded together, with no more difficulty than blades of such design."

Sabin chuckled. "Never mind what you were using," he argued, "you fought off _Kefka Palazzo_."

Edgar shook his head. "Not only that," he interjected, "but the way you moved... it was like _art_, watching you."

Terra, at the front of the group, tried to quiet them. "I... It couldn't have been... I was just... fighting."

Celes stopped her, catching her shoulder and bringing the company to a halt. "Terra, we're not insulting you," she assured. "I mean every respect when I say _that_ wasn't _fighting_. It was... _beautiful_."

"I wasn't even trying," Terra protested. "I just... It was... My fire," she insisted. "It was like when I use my fire-"

"No," Celes countered. "I've _seen_ you with your fire. That was... You were... you were _dancing_ with those swords."

Terra lowered her gaze. "I..."

Gau's cry drew their attention. "We go see ice," he reminded. "Ice on fire, shiny wings?"

Celes nodded, pulling her hand away from Terra. "Right..."

The boy stepped forward, setting one hand on the dancer's arm, just gently. "You nice with swords," he insisted. "Not bad thing. So be happy, and we go see ice."

"I... Alright," she insisted. "We'll... go see the ice."

+x+x+x+

Banon was relieved to see everyone was still alright - and _horrified_ to hear that Kefka had been involved. Everyone agreed that it was little short of miraculous that all of them had survived, and the eight of them made their way towards the ridge where the frozen siren had been placed.

The ice looked the same as any normal ice - and the creature within was just as it had been described. A humanoid figure - but that was it, the _shape_ was all that was remotely human. Wings emerged from its back, and the feathers alternated gold, ruby, and sapphire - no two feathers of the same colour were against each other. Its face looked like the figure had its jaw clenched, and there were no lips to obscure the fangs that filled its mouth. What could generously be called a nose was more reminiscent of a skeleton's nasal cavity, and over its ribs were gaps that were not wounds, but _natural flesh_; its neck was ridged, and no one had any doubt that any words from this creature would deafen them all.

"That's _definitely_ a siren driven to true battle," Locke confirmed.

"How wouldst we _remove_ him from the frost?" Cyan inquired.

Terra lowered her gaze. "I... this... feels familiar," she murmured.

Celes nodded. "You were with the squad they sent to find out what it was," she explained.

"I... I think I remember," Terra admitted. "The soldiers... They fired ice at it, because it was hot to the touch. And it... reacted. It... it broke their hold over me."

Sabin hummed. "If ice didn't work, could we try fire?" he mused.

Edgar nodded. "That sounds like our best choice," he admitted.

Gau turned to Terra. "You do fire?" he asked.

"...I can try," the dancer admitted.

Locke wasn't so certain. "Are you sure?" he asked. "If it reacts again..."

"It only struck that crown," Terra insisted. "The one they were using to control me. I should be fine."

She held out one hand, and a small fire appeared in it, gradually growing. Slowly, she stepped forwards the frozen creature; once she was near enough, she turned her hand, such that the core of the blaze was in her palm, and her fingers were licked by tongues of flame flickering from it.

A single, slow, heavy breath.

Then she reached forward, and set her hand against the ice - chill in the air around it, and heat on contact.

And it was _contact_ that set everything wrong.

The ice glowed - or rather, it _flashed_, blinding everyone briefly with a sudden, necrous light. Terra released her hold on the flame in her hand, but it refused to fade; rather, the blaze _grew_, lashing up her arm with a sudden violence. Pain began to surge up in the dancer's body - but it was not the fire that brought her pain. This was an _icy_ pain, digging into her from within, and she lashed her head back, screaming in torment as the flames began to lick at her clothing.

Celes tried to step forward. "Terra, back away!"

The words never reached her ears - as her garments began to blaze away, Terra doubled over, holding her arms tight to herself. Her other hand began to blaze, the flame adorning her flesh with much more haste than before; so too did her feet, her shoes falling apart as the fires climbed her legs. In a few moments, her entire body was wreathed in a crimson blaze, the last of her garments burning away; the band in her hair _audibly_ snapped, the emerald locks dancing around her helm.

Even monsters have a point that things stop being monstrous and start being **weird**.

The flames across Terra's body turned _hot pink_, becoming infused with a sudden vibrance that threw the Lady of the Frost off-guard. Within the flames, Terra's body had been unharmed, but now her flesh, adorned only in fire, began to _shift_. What was once skin, muscle, bone began to _glow;_ it would appear that the flesh was alight with a white fire, if not for the fact that the flesh _ceased to exist beneath it_. Terra lashed her head back again, her lips parting but no sound passing through them - and they saw her teeth sharpening, becoming like _fangs_. Her hair _elongated_, extending until it passed her waist, and as it grew they saw it shift in colour, nearly vanishing in the hot pink flames.

Her eyes snapped open - once gentle green eyes had become spheres of furious lazuli, piercing through the fires around her.

No one had time before she opened her mouth and cried out - not in pain, or sadness, or even rage, but a sourceless cry, like a wolf howling to the moon.

And Celes could only watch as Terra _lifted off the ground_, and tore through the air, unbound by anything that had right to lift her.

"What... the... hell..."

Quiet were her words at first; then she fell to her knees, and any semblance of control over her voice left her. "What the hell. What the _hell?__ What the **hell! What the HELL!?**_" The words echoed across the high cliff, receiving no answer. "What the hell just happened?! _**What** the **hell** just **happened!?**_"

The frozen siren before her began to glow again, and everyone else backed away - but Celes had an altogether _different_ course of action. "Oh, no!" she snapped, getting to her feet and drawing her sword; the arcane pattern across its surface gleamed as Celes stormed forward. "There is no way you're going to mess with us any more, you-!"

A crack appeared on the surface of the ice.

Celes had no chance to react before the wrap of flaming frost _shattered_, showering the group in fragments of ice that burned at the touch. Celes stepped back as the siren that had been trapped in the ice began to move - its very _breath_ was audible, the sound amplified by the structure of its very body. Slowly, it turned its eyes to each of those that stood before it, one by one; Edgar, Sabin, and Cyan managed to stand firm, but Locke and Banon flinched quite visibly upon locking gazes, and Gau whimpered audibly, stepping away.

The Lady of the Frost received the siren's gaze last, and when she did, she responded with words.

"Who are you?"

Her words carried as much force as she could muster; the siren kept its gaze on her, and when it opened its mouth, none would be surprised if the people of Narshe heard the words that followed.

"**I am Valigarmanda.**"

Banon stepped forward, his sword-staff-_thing_ braced as a walking cane. "Are you... were you... conscious?"

The siren, Valigarmanda, turned to him, nodding slowly. "**To my dismay, I was. It has been six hundred years since I was cast to ice alight with fire. Many conflicts have come and gone in that time, and only now have I been freed of that prison.**"

Celes turned to him. "If you could see," she demanded, "do you know what happened to Terra?"

"**My prison made use of my magic to contain me,**" Valigarmanda explained. "**When it reacted with the power within she who sought to free me with fire, a force was wakened within her that not she nor you can truly understand, as of yet. That reaction overcame the force of my prison, and so now I stand before you.**"

Locke skated forward, just slightly. "What do you mean, magic?" he demanded. "You're... a sorcerer?"

Vailgarmanda raised his hand - and all were surprised to see arcane patterns, like those on Celes' sword, gleam on his flesh. "**I am one of many who served in the Sixth Kingdom,**" the siren explained, "**monsters who were infused with the power of magic as a trial of the flesh, and the resolve. I wish only that I had time to share with you all I truly know.**"

"What do you mean, you wish you had time?" Locke demanded.

"**To use magic means to weaken the flesh,**" Valigarmanda insisted. "**The use of my own magic over so many ages, and the lack of movement within my body, has left me with precious little time in this world. My body has not even the strength to withstand my own song. I shall use the last of my power to show you the way - to she who freed me with fire.**"

"_She has a name!_"

Celes' sudden outburst caused everyone to turn to her. Upon receiving the siren's gaze, she realized that the shout had been slightly uncalled for, but she held her ground. "Her name is Terra," she insisted.

Valigarmanda nodded. "**Then I shall show you the way to Terra. Hand me your sword.**"

The Lady of the Frost was wary, fearful that this siren with rainbow wings would strike her down; but she gave in, taking her weapon by the blade and offering the handle to him. He showed composure that indicated he had, if not wielded, then at least worked with swords before; he took the blade by the handle, grasping it firmly as he held it before him.

"**The markings on this blade are but ornamental - a symbol of status. The integrity of the weapon is not hindered by them, but they have served no purpose. And yet, whoever carved these markings into your blade must have experienced magic, in truth - for this pattern is a common arcane engraving - which saves all of us a great deal of trouble.**"

His mouth opened, and everyone present stepped back, reaching for their ears. All across Valigarmanda's flesh, a _light_ shone, vibrant patterns adorning his skin, and a single, powerful note echoed through the air. The patterns on Celes' sword began to glow with the same light - and the siren released the blade, stepping back, as they saw his skin began to tremor.

Celes stepped forward. "What...?"

"**Set your hand upon the hilt of your blade, and speak my name, and your destination shall be revealed to you,**" Valigarmanda instructed her. "**Terra has not yet made her way there, but she will be there when you have arrived. Do not leave her on her own for longer than you must.**"

"What's happening to you?" Locke demanded.

The siren bowed his head. "**This is all the strength I have left...**"

His wings flared out at his side, and Valigarmanda raised his head back and opened his mouth - and his body parted from the snow, gravity taking hold as nine powerful, sorrowful notes echoed through the air around them.

Voltage ripped across him, drops of blood parting from sudden wounds in his flesh.

Flames wrapped his wings, the tricolour feathers charring black, ashes parting from the surface.

And his figure vanished into the icy abyss, darkness having consumed him by the time they heard something shatter.

+x+x+x+

"Valigarmanda..."

Everyone had gathered in Arvis' house, trying to make sense of what had transpired; the battle had become the least of their concerns. Kefka had left a few blazes on the buildings on his way to and from the high cliffs, making it more than clear that neutrality had been naught but false security; the people were now preparing to defend themselves, should the Empire ever again try to take over their home.

Their encounter with the rainbow-winged siren had left everyone in a dark mood; yet amidst his mourning, Edgar seemed _contemplative_. "It's strange," he mused. "Something about what he spoke of sounded... familiar."

"You mean that talk about the Sixth Kingdom?" Locke inquired.

"Perhaps..."

Cyan turned to Celes. "Hast thou attempted to invoke the enchantments he set upon thy blade?" he asked.

Celes shook her head. "No, I haven't," she admitted. "I... I wasn't certain when would be a good time."

"Well, now's as good a time as any," Sabin mused. "Light it up."

Gau gave a cheer of agreement.

Locke nodded. "I figure we could all use a heading at this point," he admitted.

Celes sighed, drawing her blade and watching as the runic patterns shifted with unfound light. For a moment, she pondered how to do this; then she turned the blade in hand, grasping it backhand with the heel of her palm against the center of the hilt.

"Valigarmanda," she recited.

The patterns on the blade gleamed, and from the pommel emerged an arc of light. Everyone forced themselves back, surprised, as within that light appeared an image - a downward view on a derelict building, in a dark city, rain pouring down upon it.

"That... that looks like a shikigami projection," Banon observed.

"Alas, it is not quite so," Cyan mused. "The angle of the image is impossible for a living being."

"Never mind how its made," Locke scoffed, "where _is_ it?"

Edgar snickered. "That... is Zozo," he announced. "The city of cutthroats, north of Jidoor."

Sabin groaned. "What the hell is Terra gonna be doing in Zozo?" he demanded.

Celes pulled her hand apart from the hilt, and the image vanished. "It doesn't matter," she protested. "We know where she is. We _go find her_."

"What's got you so driven?" Edgar inquired.

This got the sword raised to his neck.

Locke pulled it away with a hooked finger. "Celes, calm down," he warned. "We go find Terra. That's all that matters right now."

"First things first," Cyan insisted. "All of us have been through a great deal, and I have reason to doubt that any of us can endure travel of such distance. Shall we rest the night?"

Celes sighed heavily, leaning back in her seat. "Very well," she admitted. "We'll rest the night."

+x+x+x+

Terra opened her eyes.

The first thing that registered in her mind was that she was on the ground. The ground was strangely _heated_, and uncomfortably _uneven_; she could feel several cracks beneath her body.

The second thing that registered was that there was nothing on her body. Her flesh was bare, skin pressed against the surface, and only the darkness in which she lay kept her concealed.

The third was that it was night. A dark sky above her; the moon was new, a pitch gap in the sky, and stars scattered that brilliant void, leaving her with a strange sort of comfort.

But the fourth brought her horror - her entire body was wrapped in a strange, vibrant flame that danced around her, tight to her body, like the fur of any beast in the world.

A long moment passed as these realizations crossed her mind; then she closed her eyes, weeping softly, tears vanishing into the flame that held her like a mother's embrace.

* * *

Draco: 6:15 is way too early to be evil like that. I'm yawning now.


	19. De Nuit

Draco: This is going to go in a slightly different direction than you were probably expecting. Or rather, I hope it is. But a few of you guys tend to see right through my plot twists, so...

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**De Nuit**

Remaining in the shadows is an excellent way to remain undetected, and a newmoon night often leaves an abundance of darkness in which to hide. The hours after the sun's setting are far more likely to find people in their homes, further aiding any attempts to keep from being seen. Alas, a busy city - particularly one populated by the wealthy - often has many buildings that remain alight throughout the dark hours; and though only rare occasions have a city _completely_ lit between sunset and surise, any attempt and concealment is further mitigated by anyone who chooses to spend the day in slumber, and the night in action.

Such was Terra's misfortune, then, that she found herself stepping into the city of Jidoor, with naught but the night to hide her flesh, and found it far brighter than she could call safe.

Fate seemed to have _some_ kindness, for the streets had almost no one to fill them; Terra quickly made her way between two buildings that held shadows dancing between them, slipping between the surfaces and keeping herself hidden before anyone could see her. After a moment's pause, she risked a glance towards those who _were_ there, and horror flooded her upon recognizing the uniforms they wore.

"Imperial soldiers...?"

She leaned against the wall, horrified, then she glanced past the wall again, scanning the buildings for anything that might be useful. She found herself caught by a mixed blessing when she saw a tailor's with dark windows on the other side of the street. The Empire seemed to have occupied this city, for the soldiers were very clearly patrolling the street; fortunately, those who work the last shift of the night - or the first shift of the day, depending on your perspective - will never be at their most attentive, and the two who were near enough to be of trouble were walking side by side, talking to one another to keep themselves awake.

Her breath tight, Terra waited until the soldiers had looped past her position a few times, making sure she knew where they would be and when. Once she was certain of their timing, she slipped out from between the buildings, crossing the streets as fast as her unclad feet would take her - by the time the soldiers had turned around, she was already hidden behind another structure. An attempt to pass behind the buildings revealed that they were against a solid brick wall; what's more, not all the buildings between her and the tailor's were unlit, which left her unable to make her way through the buildings undetected.

Fortunately, one of the buildings she was currently against _was_ unlit, and with a window on this side to boot (she could only assume that it had been built before the building next to it, for there was nothing to look at). With some difficulty and some unkind contortions of her fingers, she managed to pop the frame open; from there, it was a simple matter to pull the window as wide as it would go, force the bug screen to fall inside, and climb in. Once she was inside, she quickly drew the window closed, not wanting to risk the patrol noticing.

She loosed a heavy breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding in; then she turned around.

Someone was already there.

Terra quickly pulled back, slamming herself against the wall as the one before her raised something to her neck, prompting the dancer to raise her head to minimize any risk of contact; this stopped her from seeing the weapon, but not the one holding it. It was a young girl - she was probably younger than the wild boy Gau, although given his growing on the Veldt she wasn't going to assume based on appearance alone. She wore baggy yellow pants tucked into a pair of running shoes, and a black tank top with a yellow cape of sorts tucked into the back. A blue hat adorned in strange, spotted patterns adorned her head, from beneath which emerged some slightly curled blonde locks; there was a spot of... _something_ on her cheek, near her ear, though the lack of lighting meant Terra couldn't be sure of what it was.

She didn't seem to be much put-off by the dancer's bare form, remaining their with her hand raised to Terra's neck. "Are you with the Empire?"

"No," Terra insisted. "I'm trying to hide from them."

"How did you get here?" the girl demanded.

Terra's turned away, her gaze falling. "I... I'm not... really... sure..."

The girl reached closer, and Terra felt something brush faintly against her neck, prompting her to raise her head again.

"I'm telling the truth, I swear!" she insisted, struggling to keep her voice down so as to not attract the patrolling soldiers.

A quiet grunt of frustration from the girl. "Who _are_ you?"

There it was - the question she was afraid of. A pained gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes fell closed; the strength in her legs faded, and the girl pulled her weapon away as Terra slid down the wall, falling to the floor with tears welling in her eyes.

"I don't know..."

The girl's gasp brought her to open her eyes, fearing the Imperial troops had stepped inside. When she saw no such people, she turned on her interrogator, who had her gaze on Terra. Slowly, the dancer looked down at herself, shocked at what she saw - the tears falling from her own eyes were _flames_, minute blazes that individually might not even be able to light a candle, vanishing as they fell from her face.

"...I... don't... know..."

A nervous sigh emerged from the girl; then she reached back, pulling the cape out of the back of her top and balling it up before handing it to Terra - a cushion against which to cry. "Here," she insisted.

Terra was worried. "But..."

"I don't need it," the girl assured her. "And... it helps sometimes, if you just let it out."

Slowly, Terra reached forward, accepting the balled cloth; then she drew it close, bringing her knees up against her chest and setting her face into the cushion, letting the tears of fire flow. The cloth did not _ignite_, for the flames did not linger long enough to set it alight; nonetheless, Terra found herself crying for the better part of an hour, and when at last she had strength to rise, the cloth was charred to fragility, such that setting it down at her side had it starting to fall apart.

The building was a café, of sorts, and the girl had taken a seat at one of the tables; she didn't seem to be doing anything, instead waiting for Terra to recover. After a moment, the dancer spoke up. "I'm... I'm sorry about your... cape."

The girl shook her head, a small smile rising on her lips. "It's alright," she insisted. "I usually just have it so if _I_ get sad, then I have something to cry on. Having a cape is just a bonus. You don't have to worry." She got to her feet, stepping forward. "I'm Angel. What's your name?"

Terra lowered her gaze, not sure that she wanted to tell this girl her real name. Remembering the last time she had been advised to hide her name, she responded, "I'm... Swords."

Angel chuckled lightly. "No, really," she asked.

"I danced at South Figaro," Terra explained. "Before the Empire occupied it."

"You got something a little more convincing?" Angel inquired.

Terra lowered her gaze, remembering what the Imperial troops have called her. "...Flare Dancer," she murmured.

The comment caused Angel to raise an eyebrow.

"But..." Her eyes closed. "The Empire will know that one..."

Footsteps caught her ears, and she raised her gaze to see Angel stepping up to her. "Hey," she insisted, "I'm not gonna hurt you. And I'm not gonna turn you over. What's your name?"

"...Terra," she answered.

Angel nodded. "Okay, Terra," she mused. "Did you just come in here to hide?"

"No," Terra replied. "There was a tailor's, further down. I was going to try and get to the roof and go there. I need some clothes."

"Yeah," Angel admitted, "you kinda do." She helped Terra to her feet, thinking. "I _think_ there was an access to the roof from in the kitchens, but you'd better be careful in case the soldiers look up."

For some reason, Terra felt there was little need to worry about humans looking up, but she said nothing - not for risk of revelation (the tears of fire had given away anything she might have tried to hide), but to avoid offending Angel.

The access was very clearly an emergency exit of sorts, but the two of them managed to get out without too much difficulty. The soldiers were still on patrol, but the buildings were close enough that Angel could make the jumps without too much difficulty; Terra, who had cleared a much larger gap without hardly comprehending the difficulty, didn't even need a running start for any of them. The tailor's did not have a roof access like the café, but unlike its neighbours, it _was_ two-storied, which left it with a window that _did_ see use; more uncomfortable finger movements left them with a way in, revealing the top floor was a storage - and slightly dampening Terra's plans.

"It's all guys' clothes," Angel observed, looking over row upon row of formal suits.

Terra glanced down at her bare form. "Guys' clothes are better than nothing," she insisted. "I'll just... find something I can fit into, and leave."

A disturbance from a nearby corner caused both of them to turn, taking defensive stances. Terra raised her hands to dance, though she didn't extend them fully; Angel drew something from her pocket and kept it low at her side, behind her. After a moment, however, they saw that it was simply a pile of ill-placed boxes that had finally succumb to gravity's clutched, scattered across the ground with nothing behind them. Terra was the first to let her gaze wander - and she realized that the item in Angel's hand was rather... _peculiar_. "What is...?"

Before Angel could react, Terra reached forward, prying it out of her hands - as the girl spun towards her, her suspicions were confirmed. The 'weapon' was a small wooden shaft, not much longer than a pen; tapered to a curve at one end, and slightly broader at the other. A head of white bristles emerged from the broad end - they looked to be soft, but setting her finger against them revealed them to be stiff from constant use.

"A... paintbrush?" Terra turned to Angel, a small smile rising on her face. "You threatened me with a paintbrush?"

Angel's face was slightly reddened in embarrassment, though she tried to glare through it. "You came in through a window," she defended. "There was no way for me to know what you were doing. I had a chance to take you by surprise and I didn't have a lot of options. Sue me."

Terra giggled softly, rather amused that she had been stuck-up with an artistic implement. As though it _were_ a weapon, she turned the brush in hand, so that the bristles weren't facing Angel, before offering it back by the handle; Angel quickly snatched it back, slipping it back into her pocket.

It took a good while for her to find garments that fit comfortably, but soon enough, Terra was decent again. Once she had her garments, the two of them made their way back out the window, stepping across the rooftops until they were atop the café once again. "What are you going to do?" Angel asked.

"I need to stay away from the Empire," Terra insisted. "Do you know anywhere I can go to hide?"

"I don't," Angel admitted apologetically. "Everywhere in Jidoor is busy as soon as the sun rises. If the Empire's looking for you and they know what you look like, wearing a guy's suit isn't going to block them out - your hair is kinda..."

Terra nodded. "Distinctive," she admitted.

Angel hummed quietly. "Well..." The artist sounded reluctant, but when Terra raised her gaze she relented. "I guess... if you're desperate, you could go to Zozo. It's to the north of here, east around the mountain range. But it's full of pickpockets, and cutthroats, and-"

"It'll do," Terra insisted. "I can defend myself. Thanks, Angel." She started off.

"Uh, Terra?"

The dancer turned, seeing the artist look awkward. "It's... it's Relm, actually," she admitted.

A soft chuckle from Terra. "You ask me to give you my real name, and you don't give your own," she reprimanded.

"I was-"

"No," Terra insisted, "I'm not mad. I understand." She smiled softly. "Goodbye, Relm."

She took off across the last few rooftops and vaulted over the wall they were built against, landing with all the flourish of her dances - and realizing so only after she had landed. The wall actually circled the city, leaving her to circle it, looking for an indication of her direction; the darkness of night should not have left things so clearly visible to her, but she could see - when she was in position to - the mountain range to the north that Relm had spoken of.

Nervous, but knowing no better course of action, she took off towards it.

* * *

Draco: I have to ask for your honesty here; were any of you expecting this chapter?


	20. Slam Davis

Draco: Mulch, I forgot how huge the Cave of Shadows in the Eternal Wind era is.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Slam Davis**

Zozo was wrapped in a rainstorm when Terra arrived, not long after sunrise. Men's formal wear was not exactly well-suited to travel over long distances (and was uncomfortable against her bare skin), but she had managed to arrive without suffering any more than sore feet.

The city looked to be empty as she entered, her footsteps splashing lightly in a decent layer of water that seemed to indicate it had been raining for a good while. There was a tall building nearby - towering over most of the other buildings, and still a good story or two higher than the rest; reasoning that it would be her best option for hiding in case Imperial soldiers should come by, she approached the door and tried to pull it open.

The door was locked.

"Well, hey there, girlie!"

Terra turned, raising one arm before her. There was a trio of men approaching her who had most certainly _not_ been there before. One of them had an empty bottle in his hand; the other two were holding switchblades, though the edges hadn't been drawn. The man with the bottle stepped forward. "What're you doing in this wonderful town?"

'Wonderful town' was not the word Terra would use to describe this place, but she reasoned that the inhabitants of any town would be inclined to praise their home. Nonetheless, their armaments told her that Relm hadn't been kidding when she'd called it 'full of pickpockets and cutthroats' "Hiding," Terra replied. "From the Empire."

The man on her left scoffed. "Well, that's a shame," he mused. "We're all good buddies with the Empire. Hell, Gestahl said he was coming over in a few days to pay the Boss a visit!"

"You're lying," Terra accused. "The Empire has never been here. They wouldn't waste soldiers on occupying a hive like this. Gestahl wants nothing to do with this place."

She stopped herself, gazing at the street below her. _How do I know that?_

"Come on, girlie," the man on her right insisted, "relax. We're all friendly here. We don't want to hurt you."

He flicked the blade of his knife out.

The drinker rushed forward, swinging his bottle at Terra, but the dancer only stepped to the left, prompting him to run his glass into the door that she had been trying to open - the shower of shards briefly found itself pinned between the door and his _chest and face_. The closest knifeman tried to stab her, but she grabbed his wrist and pried the switchblade out of his hands; he was screaming by the time she released his arm. The other lunged at her, but she tripped him with a sweep to the legs, causing him to hit the ground and his weapon to fall from his grip; the boss tried to swing his busted bottle at her, only for Terra to lash her leg forward and kick him.

And _flames_ burst from the impact point as he was thrown back, slamming into the wall of the next building.

The knifemen were making no attempt to fight her; the one whose knife she had stolen was gripping his wrist, where burn marks were visible, and the other's leggings were smoking lightly. The moment Terra turned to them, they started taking off, shouting through the streets with what sounded like orders and/or calls for backup. Terra was in shock - she had not been trying to use her fire.

She glanced at her hands - the rain that fell on them was gone an instant after it connected.

Then, out of nowhere, something _metallic_ slammed into the side of her head, catching her off-guard and knocking her to the wet streets. She was rising before ten seconds had passed, rubbing the impact point and looking around - she was confused to see a _wrench_ sitting on the pavement.

"Who throws a wrench?" she muttered.

Her gaze went to a balcony nearby, where a man was running inside - it looked like everyone in Zozo was after her.

She needed to get somewhere safe.

In a moment, she was on her feet, and she turned to the door and kicked it - a bolt of fire flew from her foot before it had connected, and the barrier fell apart. As quickly as her feet allowed, she stepped inside, relieved to find it empty; the stairway was unobstructed, and she started climbing.

It was a short-lived joy; she had made it two floors before the people started hindering her progress. Iron barrels were thrown down the stairs (the condition of which indicated they had been used for burning wasted papers) as she tried to climb, and only the dancing fluidity Celes had praised her for stopped her from being knocked unconscious or knocked back down. Wrench-throwers joined in after a moment, but Terra had grown wise to their projectiles, and did not receive any further wounds.

She ran into _real_ trouble when she was nearly at the top; rounding a landing caused her to run into someone who was decidedly _built_. She didn't have time to react before a hand closed on her throat, suddenly enough to choke her quite strongly, quite suddenly; before she even comprehended what was happening, she was thrown at a floor-to-ceiling window, slamming through the glass and landing on the metal roof of the building next door, rain still falling around her. A brief moment for her throat to recover; then she got to her feet, turning towards the window she had gone through.

Standing on the other side was her attacker - a very large man with very large muscles, skin that was most likely sunburnt, and a pair of baggy brown leggings with no shirt. Upon seeing she was still alive, he knocked the shards out from the frame of the window, grasped the edges, and leapt forward, landing at the edge of the building with enough force that Terra was surprised it held up. She didn't prepare herself to dance - at this point, she was worried what might happen if she tried. Her breath was strained as she tried to speak (the blow to her neck had been rather powerful).

"I don't... _want_... to hurt-"

"I call BS on anything that comes out of your mouth," the man retorted.

He charged forward with surprising speed for his frame; Terra couldn't react before he grabbed her by the arm and slammed a fierce kick into her side. She had hardly registered the blow before he raised her over his head as though a doll, throwing her into the rooftop on which they stood. Terra tried to rise, only to receive a nasty knifehand blow to the back; then the man drove his foot into her shoulder, grinding his heel into the plate.

Terra refused to cry out, but that only seemed to infuriate him further - for he quickly grabbed the wounded shoulder and raised her before him before driving a fierce punch into her face. When that still failed to induce her voice, he lashed out with another blow, this one knocking her jaw out of place; then he slammed a third punch into her eye. Still she did not vocalize her pain; he promptly turned her in his grip and slammed her against his knee. She could not act before a foot was set against her head.

Weight was placed upon that foot with intention to crush her.

The attacker received his cries of pain - and promptly wished he had not.

The moment Terra's voice broke through her lips, her entire body seemed to _explode_, throwing him from his stance atop her - though not with enough force to send him any further than the roof's edge. He recovered as quickly as he could to see Terra was _wrapped in flames_, her garments burning away. To his horror, she was _starting to rise_ within the blaze; one hand was raised towards him, and he had no time to react before a _bolt of flame_ surged from her palm, slamming into his chest and sending him back towards the building whose window _she_ had been thrown through.

He did not pass through the window.

If he was still alive when he connected with the wall, he most certainly was _not_ when gravity took hold of him, and dragged him to the pavement streets.

The flames around Terra began to shift, the crimson blaze turning hot pink, and the dancer glanced at her hand in horror; from the fingertips, her skin seemed to be lit with furious white fire that soon _burned the flesh away_ from the fingertips down, leaving only the shining flame. Her other arm and legs were doing the same, and it didn't cease there; her entire body was becoming not but flame, burning away the rain before it could make contact.

Tears of fire blended with the inferno around her before they could part from her eyes, and Terra blinded herself to the world, falling to the surface beneath her.

Her_ screams_ of unparalleled _sadness_ echoed throughout Zozo - and continued to do so for hours on end.

* * *

Draco: This is so _short_, I should have made it one chapter with 19. I got a review on 19 before I could do so, though, and I don't like to extend chapters after the fact.


	21. Royal Blood, Fraternal Love

Draco: This and Chapter 20 were initially supposed to be one chapter before I realized the album didn't have a track with an appropriate name for both.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Royal Blood, Fraternal Love**

"What have you got in mind for getting to Zozo?"

Celes, Locke, Edgar, Sabin, Cyan, and Gau were en route to Figaro Castle, having fully rested after the fight at Narshe. At Celes' question, Edgar only laughed. "My Lady of the Frost," he insisted, "certainly you received word as to how the king and his men escaped the wrath of Kefka when he arrived at the castle in the sand."

"You're talking about Kefka Palazzo," Celes insisted. "All he said was that you got away."

"In that case," the king mused, "I promise you will be amazed upon seeing what I have in mind."

They arrived not long after at a rather short stone tower that stuck out of the sand - Sabin probably could have used his shoulders to get them on top of it. Once they were about twenty paces from the structure, he raised a hand for them to stop, drawing out his cell phone and running his fingers across the keys.

"Is _this_ thy castle?" Cyan demanded after a moment. "In its entirety? 'Tis not particularly royal."

"Garamonde," Edgar insisted, flipping his phone shut, "this is a watch tower, from which soldiers can keep an eye out for unfriendly figures on the approach. My castle is grand, and majestic, and huge-ish, and..."

He snapped the fingers of his empty hand.

"Here."

The sand they were standing on began to _shake_, throwing everyone to attention - Gau actually dropped to all fours, not out of lack of balance but because he was prepared to fight. Celes and Cyan reached for their swords; Locke only chuckled, hooking his hands behind his head, and Sabin gave a grin of what looked like nostalgia.

The watch tower began to _rise_, extending further out of the sand. The sounds of shifting sands from the sides caused Celes to glance around to see two spires forcing themselves out from below, and in a few moments, the sand beneath them began to flow like water as a _castle_ emerged around them; they were standing in a courtyard, with a structure on each side leading to further access.

Cyan was stupefied. "What in the world...!?"

Gau gave a joyful cheer that made it evident he was impressed.

"That is never _not_ going to be awesome," Locke proclaimed, pulling his hands away from his head.

"It's been a long time," Sabin admitted. "How many years now?"

Celes turned to face Edgar. "You-!?

Edgar only laughed. "Welcome to Castle Figaro," he greeted. "It'll be an hour or so while we map out the route; then we'll sandworm the place and head for the area near Kohlingen. Locke," he added, turning to the treasure hunter, "I assume you can show them to anything specific?"

"Why am _I_ always playing tour guide?" Locke protested.

"Because I've got preparations to make, packing to do, and machina to test," Edgar summed up. "Meanwhile, Sabin hasn't been here in years, and I can't trouble him with showing people around when he's not even here to listen to us."

Everyone turned to where Sabin had been to find the monk gone.

"If you'll excuse me." At that, the king took off, leaving the group standing in the courtyard.

+x+x+x+

Locke made sure everyone was indoors before the castle sunk into the sand, warning them all that it would take a good ten hours for them to cross the underground distance between Figaro Desert and Kohlingen. The castle had a training hall for weapons practice, which Cyan and Celes gladly took over; Locke showed Gau where the earmuffs were located so he could sleep in the guest room before taking off to the dining hall. It didn't take long before the samurai retired to the same room, shortly followed by Locke; Celes stopped by to grab a pair of earmuffs before returning to the training hall.

Sabin had spent the time wandering the castle; not long after everyone else had fallen asleep, he made his way to the throne room. Despite Edgar ruling the castle alone, there were two thrones there; slowly, the monk stepped forward and took seat on one of them, his ears uncovered - for his training with Duncan had tempered more than just his muscles, and he had learned to block out undesired sounds.

"It's been a long time," he said again, to no one.

His eyes closed, and his head fell back on the throne. "How many years, now...?"

+x+x+x+

_"How did you get up here when everyone is in front of the throne room?"_

_Sabin only snickered bitterly at his brother's comment. "Like they're gonna pay attention to me."_

_A scrawny, wiry thing he was, then - and Edgar, not nearly so nimble with his hands. The younger twin had been stargazing at the high watchtower; after a moment, the older took a seat on the rim of the tower, facing in. "You still thinking of learning martial arts?"_

_"Humans came up with that stuff because they're weak," Sabin insisted. "Have you seen what the professionals look like?"_

_"It's kinda creepy when they overdo it," Edgar mused._

_Sabin wrapped a hand around his arm. "I don't exactly look like a prince with limbs like this," he insisted. "A little workout regimen oughta do me _**_some_**_ good."_

_Edgar sighed. "You're not a prince," he insisted. "Neither am I. Not anymore."_

_It was clear where he was going with this; Sabin turned away. "Stop with that," he insisted._

_"Sabin, you keep dodging the topic," Edgar protested. "If he's gone, we need to take those thrones."_

_"Like hell!" Sabin snapped, stepping away. "They don't care about Dad! They just want somebody to take charge!"_

_Edgar got to his feet. "You know the whole setup is going to fall apart if they're left without a king!"_

_"Let the Chancellor handle it!" the younger twin insisted. "He does most of the business anyway!"_

_"That's not how it works!" the elder twin snapped._

_Sabin whirled around angrily. "I don't **care** how it **used** to work!" he insisted. "I'm not gonna sit my ass on that chair, drinking tea and filling out papers for people who care more about finding a new king than the fact that the old one **is dead!**"_

_"That's not _**_why_**_-!" Edgar started._

_"Don't give me that!" Sabin interrupted. "They don't care about Dad! Just like they didn't care about Mom! They just want someone to rule! If they want those thrones filled, then get the Chancellor and the Priestess hitched and let them handle it!"_

_"Damn it, Sabin, **enough****!**"_

_Spikes shot out of both their shoulders as he spoke that last sentence. The younger twin lashed one hand set of scissor claws down, only for Edgar to lean away; when Sabin thrust with his other hand, the elder twin only stepped aside. A roundhouse swing was ducked under; then Sabin tried to kick at his feet, and Edgar's spiked legs elongated as he leapt over his brother, landing with their backs to each other._

_The two of them panted - not of tire, but of anger._

_Sabin shook his head, letting his claws shift back to hands. "Mom would be swearing like a submariner if she saw us fighting again," he admitted._

_Edgar let the spikes on his legs retract. "And Dad would tell her not to get worked up," he added. "He'd tell her exactly how many fights it's been, and she'd storm off in a huff; and then he'd check us for wounds, and if either of us was bruised he'd give both of us keys to his candy stash."_

_"Three..." Sabin started._

_"...and seventy..." Edgar continued._

_"...and six hundred!" they finished together._

_The two of them laughed, the spikes on their shoulders vanishing; their cheer was short-lived, and they fell quiet with their backs still to each other._

_"We should go."_

_Edgar turned to his brother. "Huh?"_

_"We should leave this place," Sabin stated. "Ditch this crazy kingdom, and do what we **want** to do. Not what **they** want."_

_"Sabin, you know that's crazy," Edgar insisted; his tone was gentle, but firm._

_"Oh, come on," the younger twin protested, turning round. "How many times has the Priestess gotten mad when you brought home a girl, huh?"_

_The older twin's face lit up. "Sh-shut up!" he snapped. "It's not the girls that she's mad about." Then quieter; "It's because it's never the **same** girl..."_

_Sabin chuckled. "Think about iiiiit," he pressed. "If we leave, you don't have to worry about her bitching about your date. You can do what you want! **Who** you want!"_

_"And you'll do what?" Edgar replied. "Enter martial arts tournaments, trick the humans with your skinny arms and kick their asses? You **know** that's just going to cause trouble."_

_"Dad said there's a tengu in Kohlingen who trains humans," Sabin insisted. "They call him the Phantom Wing. If I train with him, I've got nothing to worry about! I bet he's trained a few girls, too - you can find a date who can handle herself!"_

_"Oh, yes," Edgar mused sarcastically, "have a one-nighter with a martial artist who has the same teacher as my brother. Yes, that's going to end well."_

_"Not for the one-nighter!" Sabin snapped. "I was thinking if you were looking for something deeper."_

_Edgar rolled his eyes. "You know who you're talking to, right?"_

_"Everyone grows old sometime, Edgar," he reprimanded._

_The elder twin sighed. Sabin was not going to let up on this - and if Edgar was honest with himself, kinghood wasn't his first career choice. But at the same time, the kingdom was going to fall apart if neither of them took the throne. He drove his hands into his pockets - and his finger collided with something he had forgotten about._

_Perhaps..._

_"Sabin." Edgar raised his gaze to his brother. "What do you say... we let a lady choose?"_

_The younger twin rolled his eyes. "I swear, you're-"_

_He fell quiet when Edgar pulled out a coin, the golden rim gleaming just past the grip of his fingers. "Lady Luck," he elaborated. "The flip of a coin. This one was Dad's good luck charm. One takes the throne, and one takes off. If it's heads... you win. Tails, I win. The winner chooses his path. No regrets, no hard feelings. What do you say?"_

_Sabin scoffed. "Come on, Edgar," he argued. "There's never been a girl who hasn't smiled at you, and you **know** Lady Luck has never turned my way."_

_"Every gambler's last words before she does," Edgar reprimanded. "Maybe this time, she'll show **you** some love."_

_A heavy sigh; then Sabin nodded, a grim smile rising on his face. "Alright," he mused. "We leave it to Fate, then."_

_Edgar turned the coin in his fingers, setting it upon his index finger and his thumb; and the coin flew heavenward, turning endlessly in the air._

_When it landed on the back of his fist, and he pulled away his hand, there lay the engraved face of Sabin Rene Figaro, staring at the boy whose likeness it was carved in._

+x+x+x+

"The coin came up heads - and like it you gazed to the stars, with nothing to limit you."

It is said that twins can project thoughts to one another, but Sabin and Edgar knew from experience that it was a bag of Mulch; nonetheless, the elder twin knew Sabin was thinking of that night, and the younger twin made no attempt to hide it as he turned to his brother, leaning on the back of the other throne with a small bag in hand. The sounds of the castle grinding through the sands had faded to white noise in both of their ears.

"And you've sat your tail on these thrones ever since," Sabin added.

Edgar chuckled lightly, stepping between the two seats. "Ten years since we've been in this throne room together," he observed. With a light cuff to Sabin's now muscled arm, he added, "You've got a princely enough figure now."

Sabin laughed heartily - martial arts had certainly paidoff. "That's nothing compared to your _kingly_ attitude," he countered, his brother stepping between the seats. "Bet it makes fishing for girls easier, huh?"

The king in question groaned, taking the opposite throne. "The Priestess still gives me hell if she finds a new one in my bed," he admitted. "I'm an unmarried king, is it really such a bad thing if I let a girl feel like queen for the night?"

"Oh, that's nothing," the prince protested. "Duncan wouldn't even let me _look_ at half the girls we ran into. Didn't let Vargas flirt, either. I think I know why he got pissed so easy."

The two of them fell quiet for a long moment.

"Do you think Dad would be proud?" Edgar asked. "Of what I've done with the kingdom?"

"Hey," Sabin insisted, "you can play Gestahl and Kefka like puppets. He _better_ be proud of you." A sigh emerged. "I know I am."

Another long quiet.

Edgar turned to his brother. "Ten years since we've been in this throne room together," he mused again.

Sabin returned the gaze. "Where has all the time gone?"

The elder twin reached into the pack he had sat down next to the throne, drawing out two wineglasses and a bottle of Angel Feathers. He held the bottle out to the younger twin, who pulled the cork out with his claws; then the glasses were filled, and Sabin accepted one as Edgar set the bottle down and raised his own.

"To royal blood, and fraternal love!"

"To Mom and Dad... and Figaro!"

They touched their glasses to one another.

"Bottoms up."

* * *

Draco: Two really quick submissions. Sorry.


	22. Reverie of the Broken Phoenix

Draco: I have been getting way less sleep recently than I probably should. It would be doing wonders for my inspirational flow if I would get inspiration for the parts I _need_ inspiration for.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Reverie of the Broken Phoenix**

Continued exposure to a particular sound over a long duration means that, even after the sound has faded to white noise in your ears, its sudden absence will be noticeable quite quickly. Celes was still in the training hall when Castle Figaro went silent - though, to be fair, sound alone was not the only cessation, as the castle had been shaking enough that she had been off-balance for an hour (and would probably be off-balance for another now that it had stopped). Curious, she sheathed her blade and started to make her way to the guest rooms; she ran into Edgar on her way there, prompting her to take off the earmuffs she had picked up.

"Noticed we were done, did you?" the king observed. "We've still got a little more trekking to do; hope you haven't been swordfighting the _whole_ trip, everyone's going to be more-or-less rested."

Celes shook her head, holding out the earmuffs. "I had to stop by the guest room to get these. March with the Imperial army, a little walking with a ragtag bunch of monstrels like this is nothing."

Edgar gave her a look. "I hope that was a joke," he reprimanded.

Realizing the implications in the way she had used 'monstrels', Celes nodded. "More or less," she admitted. "You guys don't exactly have the 'monstrel pack' attitude."

Sabin was already in the courtyard when the two of them arrived, shortly followed by Locke, Cyan, and Gau. The desert Figaro Castle now rested in was not particularly different from that it had left, but it was not nearly so expansive; a short while north at Locke's direction found them at a small town that looked rather... peaceful.

"What is this place?" Cyan inquired.

Regret.

For a brief moment, Celes felt a twinge of emotion - an emotion that was not her own. A momentary sense of regret struck out from around her - but it vanished before she could look for a source, and she was forced to ignore it as Locke responded to Cyan's question. "This is Kohlingen. I used to spend a lot of time around here. Figured it wouldn't hurt to ask around. A couple bad experiences with the Empire," he admitted, turning to Celes, "but warning and explanation should avert any unpleasant assumptions."

"Fair enough," Celes admitted.

"What do you mean, ask around?" Sabin inquired.

"Terra," Locke elaborated, keeping quieter. "I'm sure a pink fire streaking across the sky wasn't exactly subtle. I know that projection on Celes' sword looks like Zozo, but I figured we oughta get a second opinion."

Edgar nodded. "Alright, then," he prompted. "You know the place best."

The treasure hunter led them to a pub not far from the town entrance. The barman seemed to recognize him as he walked in, raising a hand in greeting. "Hey, Locke!" he called. "Long time! Who's your new girlfriend?"

Celes scoffed. "Please," she reprimanded, "I'm not-"

She cut herself off when she felt it again - a brief shock of regret from the air around her. She spun round, looking around the bar; but there were few people there, and none of them had any indication of regret.

The bartender noticed. "Something wrong?"

"No," Celes mused, turning back around. "I just... thought I heard something."

Locke did introductions. "This is _former_ Imperial general, Celes Chere," he told the barman.

"Define 'former'," the bartender demanded.

"I have _no idea_ how Kefka Palazzo survived fifteen consecutive rotating sword blows," Celes replied.

The barman chuckled. "No qualms, no going back," he summed up. "Welcome to Kohlingen, Miss Chere. So, Locke, why'd you and your friends come here?"

"Not here for long," Locke admitted, taking a seat at the bar and prompting the others to do the same. "We're on our way to Jidoor; figured I'd stop by and check up on the place while I was passing by."

"Of course you did," the bartender observed. "Never change, do you?

Locke shrugged. "Haven't had much incentive."

The six of them ordered drinks; while the barman was pouring, a man at a nearby table called to them. "Did you say you were going to Jidoor?"

"Yes," Cyan confirmed, "what of it?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," the patron admitted. "The Empire's got the place."

Edgar shook his head, accepting the beverage offered to him. "We were just gonna stop by on our way to Zozo," he corrected. "It's not really our destination."

The barman gave him a look. "I don't think that's _better_," he reprimanded.

"We're looking for someone," Sabin elaborated. "Heard she was sighted near Zozo. She knows how to defend herself, and if she finds out the Empire is at Jidoor she'll probably take the lesser of two evils."

"It's kinda sad that the city of crooks is the lesser evil," the barman pointed out. With a sigh, he added, "Then again, I suppose we should know that well enough ourselves."

It came again, and this time Celes was prepared for it; the moment she felt that brief sensation of regret, her gaze scanned the bar for anyone who had let their emotions slip through a mask. It lasted longer this time, though, and before it faded she heard Locke speak.

"You got that right."

Celes turned to him as the emotion vanished, seeing an expression of distaste fading on his face. With a quick lash of her glass, she emptied her drink and grabbed his shoulder. "Locke," she insisted, "can I speak with you for a moment?"

Locke turned to her, finding a glare of insistence on her face. A brief pause; then he drained his own glass. "Fine."

They set their glasses on the bar and headed outside, whereupon Celes whirled on the treasure hunter. "You didn't bring us here for an extra lead, did you?" she demanded.

"Since when are snow fairies telepaths?" Locke protested.

"Empathy, not telepathy," Celes corrected. "They say the first snowgirls would abduct lonely m- _Not the point!_" she interrupted herself. "Why did you _really_ bring us here?"

Locke sighed. "Come with me."

Celes begrudgingly allowed Locke to lead her further into the town - and found herself concerned when she found herself led to a _graveyard_. Nonetheless, she did not speak against it - and the treasure hunter came to a stop before a particular grave, far from the entrance, with flowers lain before it. The two of them remained quiet; when no explanation was forthcoming, Celes stepped forward and looked at the name.

"_Rachel... __Fushichō..._"

Locke bowed his head. "Whatever that crown on Terra's head did, it stopped her from remembering anything. When Edgar and I showed her that we were monsters, she was... incredulous. She didn't believe that _she_ was a monster. And I told her about the rules of monsterdom - the only two limitations on what a monster can do."

"Capability, and _in_capability." Celes had been warned of those rules when she had been inducted into the Gestahlian campaign.

"Yeah," Locke admitted. "I can leave behind someone who hates on monsters. But I can't leave someone to suffer at the hands of the Empire."

He raised a hand before him, his fingers starting to hook.

"Not again."

+x+x+x+

_"Locke! Where are we going?"_

_There was a laugh on her voice as she followed Locke into a small cave. Rachel always came with him when he went treasure hunting; her smile always helped drive him on when something seemed just out of reach. At her question, he turned round, leaning down to grip one ankle; he avoided shifting his body when he was around her - a human girl, the **only** person who didn't go around calling him a thief - less out of fear for her judgement and more out of habitual caution._

_"I heard there's an impressive treasure somewhere in here," he insisted. "I figured it'd be more fun if we went looking for it together."_

_Rachel only giggle at his observation, following him further inside. The cave had a few old bridges strung up on it, and the two of them had to be careful making their way across - acting too quickly or stepping in the wrong place could give them trouble. The first bridge was sturdy enough; the second and third were slightly riskier, with Locke taking the lead to avoid them stepping through any rotten planks._

_The fourth bridge where it happened. Locke was making his way across it slowly, testing each plank before he stepped on it, with Rachel following in his steps as best she could. They were halfway across the bridge when something - water, most likely - fell onto the back of Locke's neck. A brief shout of shock sounded, his back straightening as he pulled his foot away from the plank he had intended to test; alas, the shout was loud enough to echo through the cave, and from nearby he promptly heard a fierce sequence of screeches. A swarm of bats emerged, throwing him off-guard, and as he stumbled in an attempt to block them his foot connected with the plank._

_He couldn't say for sure that it was the wood's fault; his step hadn't been as cautious as he would have liked, and probably had a bit more force to it than the others. Nonetheless, his foot had force, the plank breaking beneath it and tumbling into the chasm, and as he fell back he thoughtlessly reached out and grabbed the ropes to either side. That didn't prove any better; the ropes snapped in their attempt to support his sudden weight against them, the bridge splitting in two, and Locke and Rachel both grabbed the bridge pieces as they swung into the walls._

_His grip held against the impact._

_That didn't help the fact that hers **didn't**._

_"**RACHEL!**" Abandoning caution, Locke threw himself off the half-bridge, across the gap it was meant to cross and towards the plummeting Rachel. He cracked the knuckles of his right hand mid-flight, letting his fingers arc into hooks; he managed to dive faster than she fell, putting one arm around her and digging his grip into the wall he was about to collide with. Their fall was slowed, but not stopped; his shoes tearing open drew Rachel's eyes towards his rapidly-changing feet, and as they neared the bottom of the chasm he managed to push them off the wall with enough force that he could land with a skater's spin, setting her down on the floor and coasting backwards until his spine connected with the wall._

_Both of them were breathing heavily._

_"Holy **Mulch**," Locke exclaimed, bowing his head and setting the palm of his hooked hand into his forehead. "I don't even want to think about how close that was."_

_"What the... What the...?" Rachel's voice was one of horror._

_"Is something wrong?" Locke asked, raising his gaze to her. "You're not hurt, are you?"_

_Rachel's eyes were on the treasure hunter's feet. "Locke," she demanded, "what... what is... What **are** you?!"_

_Locke's gaze went down, realizing his feet were still skates. Warily, he raised his gaze to Rachel, raising his unhooked hand in what he meant to be assurance. "Rachel, please, just... calm down. I don't-"_

_"Tell me!" Rachel demanded, her gaze going up to Locke's face. "What is... **that**?!" She pointed to Locke's lowered hand. "What are **you**!?"_

_"Rachel," Locke pleaded, "I promise, I'll explain, but I need you to calm down. I don't even know what's down here."_

_He raised his hooked hand, with intent to shift it back in clear view; but Rachel only stormed forward, grabbing him by the wrist. "What is this supposed to be?" she demanded. "How is anything about this **normal**!?"_

_"I'm not pretending to be normal," Locke insisted. "I'm not going to act like this is a natural thing. But you need to listen to me. What **this** is doesn't change **who** I am. Hear me out."_

_"I..." Rachel stepped back. "I'll... I'll listen."_

+x+x+x+

"She didn't much listen."

Locke was relieved that the graveyard was empty apart from him and Celes; he didn't have to talk in hushed tones when this was something he needed to get off his chest. "I said 'monstrel'," he continued. "I didn't even much get the word out. She took off further into the cave. She wasn't willing to listen to my explanation. I was lucky she even got out of the cave, because you can be damn sure she wasn't going to let me lead her out."

Celes was astonished. "Locke..."

"I left," Locke insisted. "As soon as I was sure she was home safely, I left this place and I didn't look back once. When a friend of mine told me the Empire was en route, a year later, I didn't even flinch." His head fell back. "Figaro's in charge of this place, and I hear a legion of... less-than-obvious... soldiers managed to fight off the Imperials. But any fight's gonna have casualties. And she was one of them."

A heavy sigh passed through his lips, and he knelt down next to the grave. His hooked thumb dug into the dirt briefly before coming out with something around the tip, and his unhooked fingers pulled it off; he let it fall into his palm and held it out to Celes.

"I was trying to do a little... elaborate proposal," he admitted. "Have her take lead when we got near, and watch her expression when she found the ring. But I overreacted. She was in shock, and I didn't even stick around for it to wear off to see if she'd change her mind. About me. About _monsters_. And she's the one who suffered for it. You can be damn well sure I would have made sure she was safe if I had still been here."

Celes watched as Locke closed his hand around the ring, bowing his head and setting his fist against his forehead; then he set the ring atop her grave.

"I just wish I knew what she would have said when she was thinking clearly."

The former general stepped forward. "That kind of suffering, and...?" She shook her head, surprised. "Most monsters would be driven to hate humans after something like that."

Locke scoffed. "Please," he protested. "Humankind didn't kill Rachel. The _Empire_ killed Rachel. Why would I hate an entire species for the acts of a few?"

"Not just that," Celes insisted. "_Her_ reaction..."

"Oh, _that_." Locke chuckled grimly. "Like I said, she was in shock. If I had told her about it in a more peaceful situation, I would have gotten a more honest answer. But I panicked. She fell, and I had to show what I was to save her. And when she reacted, right after a near-death experience, that couldn't have been her real response. But I was a moron, and I didn't stick around to hear what she really had to say."

He started out of the graveyard, but was surprised when Celes didn't move to follow him. "You gonna stick around a bit?" he asked.

Celes was quiet for a moment, turning to him. "I take it... you don't know any sorcerers?"

"Um..." Locke clicked his tongue. "Banon has been working on that since before I joined the Returners," he admitted. "A year or so after I found out. I've never asked about his teacher."

"Why not?" Celes inquired, stepping towards him. "Witches aside, a sorcerer doesn't take up students until they know enough magic to last them their eldest years. And more often than not, that includes the creation of a Kyonshi."

"Don't go there," Locke said firmly. "If death has taken her, I'm not going to bring her back. She's human. I won't take that from her. Don't tell me the Empire hasn't learned to handle loss."

"If you want answers," Celes protested, "you should be looking for them."

Locke only gave her that same grim chuckle again, turning away. Celes narrowed her gaze. "Something funny?"

"Love and diplomacy."

She was caught off-guard by the out-of-place statement. "What?"

The monstrel turned to her. "Edgar pieced things together from the war records, and Sabin and Banon learned it from him. When Banon ran into me here in Kohlingen, he told me not to dig too deep if I didn't want to risk finding something I didn't want to see. He gave me a quote, from an old famous sorcerer, who said 'Knowing lies, and willful ignorance, are the stuff of love and diplomacy.' I'm satisfied with what I know."

"That old famous sorcerer must have been one hell of a cynic," Celes protested.

"No, he would have just been taking a look around him," Locke insisted. "Maybe he had visions of improvement. But he said 'are'. And that means that's what things were like at the moment." He shook his head. "Whatever. Stop picking apart my drive, would you?"

He turned away, stepping out of the graveyard; and Celes took one last look at the grave, and the ring upon it.

"Rachel Fushichō..."

* * *

Draco: My Rosa-Vam-ing of VI's story means there's a few plot threads that need to change in order to be plausible for a Rosa-Vam-esque continuity.


	23. Slam Shufflin'

Draco: Completely forgot about how VI's game over works until after I had already reset following a loss to Dadaluma. MULCH ME. On the bright side, taking him out takes out his Iron Fist flunkies too if they're still out, so that was nice to learn about.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Slam Shufflin'**

After some cautious consideration, the six Returners agreed that it would be best to stop by Jidoor so long as they remained cautious about it. Once they made sure they hadn't forgotten anything that needed doing in Kohlingen, they took off south, in the direction of the wealthy city.

They had only just started out when Celes found herself curious of the pack on Edgar's back. She had noticed it when they had left the castle, but only now did she realize it was not all one piece - something separate was clipped to the bottom of it. "What is that?" she asked.

"Hm?" Edgar turned to Celes, confused, before realizing that she had her eye on his bag. "Ah - caught your eye, did it?" He reached back, grabbing the lower portion; the clip seemed to release when he pulled, and he held it out before him. It seemed to be a metal box of sorts, with a handle emerging from it (with which it had been clipped to the bag); a gap emerged from near one end of the handle to halfway up the opposite edge of the box, and there was what a rotating lever emerging from one side, with a small switch on the other.

"Edgar," Locke reprimanded, "why would you bring _that_?"

"The streets of Zozo are too narrow to merit a ranger," the king insisted. "I figured I'd bring something a little more... versatile."

Sabin turned to him. "What, you didn't have any more spears?"

"It's not that," Edgar insisted. "I just figured they might try and bar the way, and thought I'd make sure it doesn't slow us down."

Celes shook her head. "I'm sorry, what _is_ that?" she demanded.

Edgar turned to her. "This," he replied, "is a chainsaw."

"What?"

The king's empty handlehand grabbed the lever, and Celes stepped back as he pulled it around - and a _circular saw blade on a shaft_ emerged from the gap, rotating until it was opposite the handle. A further rotation caused what looked like a trigger of sorts to emerged and set itself against the handle, whereupon he adjusted his grip and pulled the trigger - and the blade _roared_, whirling until he released the trigger.

"Custom compact chainsaw," Edgar elaborated.

"What chain?" Celes inquired.

Edgar glanced down and realized the saw blade was bare. "Oh, sorry," he prompted, turning the handle again to retract the blade. He flicked the switch on the other side before drawing the blade again - and this time it actually _looked_ like a chainsaw. "Two functions - one for combat, one for utility."

Celes gave him a look. "You'd fight with a chainsaw?"

"Zozo is not a kind place," Edgar admitted, retracting the blade again. "I prefer to come prepared."

He clipped the handle back to the bottom of his pack; and Celes made a mental note not to piss of King Edgar Roni Figaro.

+x+x+x+

The Empire was much more subtle in Jidoor than it had been in Figaro - there were all of two soldiers patrolling the place, and they didn't even seem to be too attentive about it. Nonetheless, they didn't linger; Locke dropped into a café to ask if anyone had seen anything peculiar recently whilst the others waited outside the wall that circled the town.

He was back before too long, prompting Celes to turn to him. "What'd you hear?"

"Five Mime Theatre's gonna perform _Maria and Draco_ at the opera house to the south," Locke replied.

Sabin cuffed him in the back of the head.

"One of their actors noticed Terra," the treasure hunter elaborated. "Some stage-name suck-up called Bartz Klauser. A streak of pink fire isn't exactly subtle. Apparently she was unconscious in a crater nearby. Most people just reported a flaming mess... but it sounds like Klauser was talking about a girl wrapped in pink fire. He said he was going to talk to their costume artist about a new design for the fairies."

"That..." Edgar started, but fell quiet after a moment before admitting, "would be kind of cool."

Cyan stepped forward. "And none have reported her having been in the city?" he inquired.

"Nope," Locke admitted. "Looks like Celes' sword is right. She must be in Zozo."

Celes drew her weapon, curious. "I wonder... if maybe the image would change," she mused. She turned it backhand, setting her hand against the hilt, and everyone stepped away to give the projection room.

"Valigarmanda."

The arc of light flowed from the pommel, and the image that followed was Zozo again. However, it _was_ a different image this time - the angle was lower, and from a different side, revealing different buildings... apart from one.

"It changes," Locke confirmed. "But that tall building - that's where Terra will be. That's where we'll find her."

Gau gave a soft cry to get their attention. "Us go find her!" he prompted.

"Verily," Cyan agreed. "We know the siren's image does not lie. We'll only waste time trying to preempt the meeting. Let us go."

+x+x+x+

Zozo was well-known - to all who knew of it - for three things. The people were murdering cutthroats that never spoke a word of truth on purpose. The buildings had signs to indicate businesses that were not and had never been in the city. And the skies were ever clouded, pouring rain onto the urban jungle.

As such, no one was eager to enter the place; but knowing Terra was there, the six of them stepped through the rain-soaked streets without hesitation.

Remembering that the projection had focused on the highest building in sight, they quickly located the tallest structure Zozo had. The door was slightly locked, but a good kick eliminated any need for a lockpick - the problem came when they stepped inside and found themselves in what probably qualified as an entry hall, with a staircase that circled the outer wall and left them surrounded by Zozo brutes in all directions. The second they saw the six strangers to the city, everyone traded glances with someone else before going for their weapons. Edgar groaned, grabbing his compact chainsaw and bracing it before him.

The locals flicked their switchblades open.

The king whirled the chain blade out, pulling the trigger and letting the machina roar for long enough to dissuade them from zerg-rushing the group.

"You left the chain on," Celes reprimanded.

"Say that sooner," Edgar muttered, whirling blade back in and flicking the switch.

Locke stepped forward. "Alright, listen up, harvesters," he warned. "We have been told there is a girl here who we are looking for. She's supposed to be at the top of this building. Now, we don't want to cause trouble. We are going to go up. And then we are going to come back down when we're done. If you get in our way, we won't hesitate to deal with you. If you stay out of the way, we won't touch you guys. Are you doing to get in our way?"

At once, all the locals shouted, "NO!"

"Ah, hell," Locke muttered, drawing his knife.

Those on the floor lunged forward with their switchblades drawn; Cyan reappeared in the middle of the room, prompting most of them between him and Gau to fall over. Two of the brutes tried to stab him, but the samurai only grabbed their switchblades and redirected them into each others' shoulders, twisting them to spatter blood. He quickly vanished, tripping another set of brutes as he appeared next to Celes; the former general raised one hand, and the blood froze, expanding violently to form a twisted tree of ice that impaled most of the cutthroats trying to attack them.

Sabin and Edgar rushed forward, the monk plowing a violent path through the locals while Edgar ran up behind him, whirling his saw blade back out. When they arrived at Celes' ice tree, Sabin took off to deal with more brutes while Edgar slammed the saw into the base of the tree. The cut didn't happen fast; the nearest few tried to strike while his back was turned, only to narrowly avoid having their heads cut off by the chainsaw. The turn-around impact managed to weaken the tree enough that it began to fall; Cyan and Sabin quickly took cover as the tree plummeted, shattering against the heads of most of their attackers.

One guy who managed to dodge the collapsing ice tried to get Locke from the side, only for Gau to tackle him and punch him in the face hard enough to knock him out.

The treasure hunter hadn't had to do anything.

+x+x+x+

Unfortunately, it seemed that the locals had known about the girl at the top of the building, and reasoned that someone was going to be after her; a barricade had been set up at the stairs, leaving it impossible for anyone to get through. None of them were strong enough to get through six solid feet of wood (why the people of Zozo had enough wood lying around to barricade the door at the top of the stairs with six solid feet of it was another question altogether), which meant they had to find another way up. The building next door had _no_ such obstructions, leaving it relatively easy for them to climb _those_ stairs.

It stopped a few stories shorter than the one Terra was supposed to be in; though a good jump got them across, it only happened after Edgar used his crossbow to break the windows. Even then, Celes had to go first - her armoured gauntlets protected her hands from the trapped fragments, and she could take them out before the others crossed. The very next floor had a broken floor-to-ceiling window and _another_ obstruction in the way, this one not as sturdy; Sabin was able to smash it with his claws, only to find no stairs behind it - an enclosed gap in the floor above seemed to indicate the former location of a staircase, but there was nothing there anymore.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me," Locke protested.

Cyan glanced out the window, where the roof of the opposite building lay; and then he leaned out the window, with a hand on the frame, as he glanced to the next floor - which had a rather large balcony and looked as though it had once been a penthouse of sorts. Then he turned to Gau, who seemed to be watching him. "Sir Gau," he prompted, "dost thou remember what Sir Valigarmanda looked like?" Upon receiving Gau's confused gaze, he added, "The siren at the high cliffs near Narshe."

Gau gave a cry of confirmation, nodding his head.

"Couldst thou take a form similar to his?"

The boy from the Veldt nodded again with another cry.

"Couldst thou lift all of us to the balcony on the next floor?"

Gau glanced around at everyone before pointing at Sabin and giving a worried cry.

Sabin only chuckled, raising his claws. "If I stick these in the wall," he mused, "I should be able to make it easier on you."

At that, Gau only gave a cheer.

Celes seemed to understand what Cyan was saying; she pointed to the rooftop out the window. "Hop out there first," she prompted. "You'll have more room to shift. Once you've got your wings out, we'll hop after you, and you can help us upstairs."

Gau was already at the window as she finished, and he quickly leapt across the gap, landing with a roll on the rooftop. Locke admittedly winced when he saw the boy's body changing, taking the form of a siren driven to desperation - although without Valigarmanda's rainbow wings. Gau seemed slightly concerned about the dark grey feathers, but he only turned back and shouted - with a very _amplified_ voice - "**Come over!**"

Everyone ended up covering their ears briefly; Cyan stepped up first. "Sir Gau!" he prompted. "Thy form makes thy voice much louder! Try to avoid speaking until thou hast returned to thy normal form, alright?"

The onimodoki pouted briefly, but only nodded.

Once everyone was over, it was a simple matter for Gau to get them up to the next floor's balcony - provided they gave it a running jump to put a boost into it. Sabin _did_ need to redirect his jump to the wall next to the window so he could dig his claws in, but there was little enough difficulty involved; soon enough they were all inside, and Gau quickly shifted back to normal.

"Watching that is both awesome _and_ kinda creepy," Locke admitted.

Gau raised a hand and opened his mouth, as though intending to protest; then he only swiped his hand with a dismissive cry intonated suspiciously like 'Whatever'.

Locke stepped into the penthouse first, knife in hand and fingers hooked. The area was very expansive - and very _cluttered_. Whoever it belonged to - or rather, whoever it had _once_ belonged to - had been rather less than tidy. There was a bed in the far corner, and on second look Locke saw a very distinctive head of green hair against it.

Immediately he started moving. "Terra-!"

"Don't."

The voice from nearby caught everyone's attention. Standing there was a man who looked very _aged_, with a very _long_ beard of white and a very _bald_ head. His body was adorned in robes of deep grey, like clouds from which fell gentler rains; in one hand, set against the ground, was a long staff tipped with a golden sphere.

When Locke stopped to face him, he turned to gaze at the others, to ensure they would not act hastily. "Her mind is in a very fragile state," he warned. "Any sudden contact with her body could prompt it to react unwillingly, and drive it to the same primal action that brought her here. For all of your sakes, and hers, I ask that you be calm."

Celes reached for her blade. "Who are you?"

The man turned towards her, a studious gaze in his eyes.

"I am Ramuh, of Feymarch's vanguard."

* * *

Draco: I... have no idea what I figured you guys would expect. On one hand, I've been keeping close enough to the gameplay that there had to be _someone_ taking care of Terra, but on the other hand, I've had the mentions of Feymarch be used in a manner reflecting the deities they ought be, so... I'm just gonna ask for your honesty. Did you see it coming, or not?"


	24. Jidoorian Rhapsody

Draco: Mulch me, I've been spelling 'impresario', 'Gabbiani', and 'Leonhart' wrong for ages.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Jidoorian Rhapsody**

There were a lot of responses that Locke could have given upon hearing that this old man in Zozo was _Ramuh_, from "I knew that" to "LIAR!" to "Sure, and I'm Brynhildr."

But the only thing that came out of his mouth was a startled "You're... Ramuh..."

"Do you disbelieve me?" the elder inquired. "I understand I have received quite a reputation even among humans, although with different elements depending on who tells the story."

Celes stepped forward, one hand on the grip of her sheathed sword. "What in the world should make us believe that _you_ are the Judgement Bolt of Feymarch?"

Her words brought the elder to turn his gaze upon her - and she flinched upon seeing the _force of lightning _that danced behind his eyes. A moment's pause; then she gave a gasp of pain, releasing her weapon and closing her hands on her helm. Locke turned in horror as Celes fell to the ground, grunts of pain emerging from her, and he could have sworn he saw an electric charge dancing across her fingers.

No sooner had he taken notice of it than it faded, and Celes raised her gaze to the elder before her, her eyes wide.

"What the...?"

"The mind functions through the transmission of minute pulses comparable to electricity," he informed her. "I simply gave you a brief experience of what it is like to have a mind that functions through the transmission of _actual_ electricity. I imagine you will be generating a slightly larger static charge than normal for a short while."

Celes managed to get to her feet. "You forced my brain to run on lightning."

"Do you believe me now?"

"_Absolutely_."

Ramuh turned to the others. "Anyone else?"

The other four quickly took a step back.

"We were sent here by a siren who called himself Valigarmanda," Locke explained. "He said Terra was here. Why won't you let us talk to her?"

"I will," Ramuh insisted. "I'm simply asking you to remain calm while you do so. She is scared. And in that fear, she is weak. If you will go to her, do so with caution."

Locke sighed, raising his still-hooked right hand before him and letting his fingers shift back. "Alright then."

The six of them were at half pace as they made their way across the room. Terra was curled up beneath the covers, her hair unbound around her, face pressed into the blanket lain across her. Once he was at the side of the bed, Locke knelt beside it, setting his hand on the edge of the mattress. "Terra...?"

His voice seemed to catch her attention; Terra raised her gaze suddenly, her eyes red from crying. A moment's passage; then she spoke, her voice weak.

"Locke...?" She turned to the others, not rising. "Celes... Edgar... Sabin... Cyan... Gau..."

"Terra okay?" Gau asked.

The question caused Terra to lower her gaze to her blanket-wrapped form. "I... I don't know... what's going on... My body... I... What _am_ I...?"

Celes shook her head. "You're Terra Branford," she insisted. "Whatever's happening to you, it doesn't change that."

Locke nodded. "She's right," he agreed. "You're still Terra. Don't think you're not."

Edgar turned to Ramuh - and did a brief double-take upon realizing he had crossed the room without making a sound. "I... Do you know...?"

"I do not," the elder insisted. "But whatever it is, it is not foreign to her body. Nothing has been altered within her. It is more that... something that has been there for long has only recently shown itself." He stepped forward. "Terra... hold out your arm."

Warily, Terra drew out her arm from under the covers and holding it towards the group. Celes stepped forward, pulling off her armoured gauntlet and setting one hand upon Terra's own - and both of them pulled away suddenly, giving brief cries. Terra's was one of shock, the contact catching her off-guard, but Celes' was one of _pain_, and she quickly gripped the connection, hissing lightly.

"What's wrong?" Sabin inquired.

Celes bit her lip briefly. "It's... her skin is... _heated_," she exclaimed.

Locke warily reached forward, prompting Terra to hold out her arm again. Letting his fingertips hover over Terra's arm, he didn't feel any abnormal heat; but the _moment_ his skin connected with hers, there was a sudden, _burning_ heat that made him pull away. "It's like that ice Valigarmanda was trapped in," he realized. "It doesn't _give off_ heat, but it burns you when you touch it."

Terra glanced at her arm. "Why... what's going on?"

Ramuh stepped forward. "I have no answers for you," he admitted, "but... I think I know where you might find someone who does."

That drew everyone's attention. "Where wouldst thou have us go?" Cyan inquired.

"Vector."

Celes stepped forward. "The Imperial capital?" she demanded. "Are you crazy? Do you think Gestahl is going to-"

"It's not the Empire who will know," Ramuh insisted, cutting her off. "It's their prisoners."

"Prisoners?" This didn't sit right with the former general. "What are you...?"

Ramuh raised his gaze. "Abominable snowgirls normally reside in areas of constant chill," he mused. "Mid-level temperatures that are easily manageable for a human are positively _infernous_ to them, necessitating constant regulation. Tell me, then, Celes Chere, why you - with all the abilities of a snow fairy - do not suffer, walking around in ordinary garb in a location such as Maranda, let alone in full plate mail in the deserts of Figaro."

Celes lowered her gaze to her still-unarmoured hand.

"The answer is that you are not a snow fairy," Ramuh informed her. "You are what is known to certain communities as a ghoul; a human who has been infused with the power of a monster via the injection of blood. And that power came from monsters that have been imprisoned in the Gestahlian Imperial Palace. If you should go to Vector and free their prisoners, surely one of them will know something about what is happening to Terra."

Sabin turned to him. "If _we_ should go?" he inquired. "You're not coming with?"

The elder only shook his head. "We of Feymarch are revered as deities, and for good reason. As such, we are forbidden from taking action in the affairs of humans, and are limited in what we can do to help monsters. I can watch over Terra if you cannot... but I can accompany you to fight the Empire."

"No..."

Terra's words drew everyone's gaze. The dancer had pushed herself upright, and was wrapping the blanket around herself - Celes only now realized that she wasn't wearing anything beneath the blanket. "I... I don't want to... sit here and do nothing. If you're going... I'm coming with you."

Cyan shook his head. "The Empire will recognize thee from the moment thou art sighted," he protested. "And what's more, the transformation that happened upon thee when Valigarmanda was freed with thy fire was incredibly volatile. If that should happen in Imperial territory-"

"If the Empire... has prisoners," Terra insisted, "then maybe I... can break them out. Just point me... in the right direction... and stay out... of my way."

"Terra, you're not thinking straight," Celes reprimanded. "It's too risky. If the Empire gets hold of you again..." She shook her head. "They'll use you to rain the worst destruction. With what's happening, I don't think we would be able to undo the way they control you."

The dancer lowered her gaze. "But I... I can't just..."

Sabin glanced around at the group. "We need a way to get _to_ Vector," he insisted. "We can talk about _who_ later."

"We could hijack an Imperial ship," Locke offered.

"I don't think so," Edgar insisted. "They're far too good about security for all of us to get in. And I haven't finished my air anchor yet. We'll only get in trouble trying to overpower them."

"Then we infiltrate it instead," Celes countered. "A smaller group with more maneuverability. We sneak aboard and threaten whoever's in charge to get us to the Imperial continent." Turning to the hook-handed monstrel; "Locke, you introduce yourself as a treasure hunter - so why does everyone call you a thief?"

Locke glanced at his hand curiously. "Because I'm quick on my feet and good with my fingers," she admitted.

Celes nodded. "Good. You and me, we'll head back to Jidoor and see where the Imperials got their ride. Edgar, Sabin, Cyan, Gau, you guys stay here." Then she turned to Terra, still lying on the bed in thought. "And Terra..."

The dancer shook her head. "Celes-"

"Just don't be hasty," the former general insisted. "You decide what you want to do, but think before you choose. Alright?"

Terra lowered her gaze. "I... alright..."

The two of them started to leave the building, but Edgar's call of "Celes!" brought them to a halt. The former general turned as Edgar tossed her something - a gold coin, no larger than a quarter. "Take it," he prompted. "It was my father's good luck charm. Might do you some good."

Celes glanced at the coin briefly. "Was your father a gambling man?" she inquired.

Edgar chuckled. "Not exactly."

Locke had already pulled open the door to the stairwell, and the two of them hopped down and started through the stairs. Celes slipped the coin into her pocket as the treasure hunter turned to her. "So, how do you expect to find the Imperial ship?"

"I'm going to walk into Jidoor, get a cola, and see which soldier is stupid enough to try and shoot the Lady of the Frost when she's got a cold drink in her hands," Celes summed up.

+x+x+x+

They didn't even make it to the café.

As soon as they arrived at Jidoor, not long after noon, they ran into a pair of guys in Imperial uniforms. As in, two and two collided on the way around a corner. None of them fell over, everyone simply stepping back to regain balance, turning towards each other.

One of the soldiers recovered faster than the other, and as he raised his gaze he seemed to recognize Celes on sight. "You!"

Celes only smirked as he went for his pistol; the moment it was raised, she leaned just to the side, leaving the shot to pass her in an instant.

Her face fell. Something was wrong about that shot.

The soldier turned his pistol back to aim at her, but Locke only struck his arm, knocking it aside and prying the weapon out of his hand. The other soldier tried to fire at him while he was distracted, but Celes only grabbed his arm, spun round so that she had her back against his shoulder, and forced his arm to point downward in the time it took him to pull the trigger.

The bullet hit the earth... and vanished.

"You're not Imperial soldiers," she snapped, glaring at the man who she still had gripped.

Locke, who had his guy with his hands pinned behind his back, only raised his gaze. "Huh?"

"You didn't figure that out when we fired at the Lady of the Frost?" the pinned guy demanded.

Celes whirled on him. "You're _really_ not Imperial soldiers," she realized. "I turned on the Empire. They're all calling me Traitor Chere."

The soldier she was holding lowered his gaze. "Oh. This just got awkward."

Treasure hunter and former general released their pinned imaginary soldiers. The guy Celes was holding started rubbing the grip point unpleasantly; Locke's victim only spun round. "What are you guys fighting Imperials for?"

Locke gave a 'Really?' expression and opened his mouth to talk.

"I mean, specifically, right now," the guy elaborated. "I figured knowing Imperial soldiers are patrolling a place, you'd steer clear or bring a legion."

"We need a ride to Vector," Celes explained. "We thought we'd strangle a location for a ship out of the patrols, sneak aboard, and take off with the captain at bladepoint."

The other imitation liegeman only scoffed. "No such luck, I'm afraid," he warned. "We got hired by Owzer to dress up, walk around, and spread enough rumours to Kohlingen. Any Imperials in the area would be confronted by locals confused as to why they're heading to occupy a town that they've _already_ occupied, and while they're contacting their superiors, we get fair warning and can deploy defenses."

"That is going to get your rumour victims killed if Kefka is involved," Celes reprimanded.

The soldiers lowered their gazes guiltily.

Locke turned to his man. "Owzer's that fat rich guy with the biggest mansion in Jidoor, right?" Upon receiving a positive answer, Locke turned to Celes. "Maybe he knows a way we can get to Vector."

Celes breathed a heavy sigh. "That's the best choice we got at this point."

+x+x+x+

The 'biggest mansion in Jidoor' doubled as an art gallery of sorts - the place was open to locals, revealing an impressive collection of paintings. The moment they walked in, they collided with someone again; this one had much more impact, for the man they ran into seemed to be in a hurry.

"I'm so sor- Maria!"

Celes shot a look in the direction of the collision. "Excuse me?"

The man looked to be rather of a rather officious and/or wealthy type, neatly groomed with a simple bow tie and a suit that would run Locke broke. In one hand was a sheet of paper with a lot of writing on it, and in the other was what looked like a playing card. Upon getting a good look at Celes, he stepped back, raising the card hand in apology. "My apologies," he insisted. "You look so much like Maria it's impressive."

"Maria?" Locke inquired. "You mean Maria Benett? The actress?"

"Heard of her, have you?" the man inquired. "She'll be acting in Five Mime Theatre's performance, tonight. I'm their impresario, incidentally."

Celes set her hands on her hips, remembering Locke's earlier mention of _Maria and Draco_. "A woman named Maria is playing the role of... a woman named Maria?"

The impresario rolled his eyes. "No, she'll be the fairy queen," he mused sarcastically. "Oh, but I really must be going!"

Locke stepped into his way. "Hold on," he insisted. "What's got you in such a rush?"

"Owzer owns one of Maria's portraits," the impresario exclaimed. "I came in here to speak with him and I found _this-_" here he held out the sheet, which seemed to be a letter, before holding up the card and adding, "-pinned to the corner with _this_."

The former general took the tabletop implement, looking it over. "A jack of spades," she mused. Her eyes gleamed cold briefly before she added, "Nothing on it."

The treasure hunter grabbed the letter. "_Dear Maria,_" he read aloud. "_I have ever adored you from afar; a face as beauteous as any goddess, and a voice as lovely as a siren's song._" Celes scoffed at the comparison, and Locke only shot her a glare - tinged with agreement that the writer must never have hear a siren's song - before returning to the note. "_However, though your acts have ever been the best element of any performance in which you take part, rarely are your writers or your co-stars comparable. Never have there been stars worthy to shine alongside you. Thus, I could not, in good conscience, come up to you after the curtains fall, and praise you for being a great part in a great show._

Celes angled the paper enough to see the handwriting - the underlining quelled any confusion about whether that was a compliment or a masked insult.

"_Tonight, I hope for that to change. Five Mime Theatre is famed worlds over for the greatest shows and the most skilled of actors - and_ Maria and Draco_ is a personal favourite of mine.__ I shall watch the performance in which you take part, and pass my judgement. If the dancers' footfalls are as light as the fairies they play; if the actors put on a show befitting Ralse, Draco, and those who aid them; if the music should be wondrous enough to drown out a voice like thunder sounding-_"

"How much longer does this go on?" Celes demanded.

Locke rolled his eyes. "Rule of three for praise, and then..." He went back to the letter. "_If Five Mime Theatre should, indeed, put on a performance worthy of shining alongside a star such as you... then I shall descend upon the curtain's fall, and take you with me - so that we may celebrate your greatest performance yet, among the stars of the newmoon sky._

"_Sincerely,  
__~Setzer Gabbiani_"

"A kidnapper?" Celes inquired.

"A gambler," the impresario corrected. "He's willing to risk that nothing goes wrong during the performance - the _one_ opera we go all-out and experimental for - for a chance to spend some time with Maria. She's not exactly that kind of actress," he admitted, seeing their expressions, "but no one in Jidoor's gonna pass on an airship flight. I'm just scared he's not going to return her after their celebration is done."

"Airship?" Locke mused, trading glances with Celes.

The Lady of the Frost smiled. "Perfect," she agreed. Turning to the impresario, she added, "We'll guard your performance. This gambler has just what we need."

The impresario only shook his head. "Setzer will see your defense from a mile away," he warned. "And you won't see him - the _Blackjack_ is practically _invisible_ at night. You'll need something more covert."

"What if we join in the stagehands?" Celes asked.

"The opera house is roofed with nothing but skylight," he informed them, "and every panel opens up. Setzer's got a flair for the dramatic - he'll come in and leave from above."

Celes gave him a look. "Has he done this before?"

"I hear he kidnapped a woman in the middle of her wedding ceremony once," the impresario admitted, "but I think she hired him. It was arranged, and she did _not_ like the guy she was about to marry. Point is," he insisted, getting back on topic, "if you're not close by, he'll be in and out with Maria in his arms before you even notice he was there."

Locke set a hand on his chin with a curious hum, his eyes drifting until he found himself looking at Celes - who herself had a pensive look on her face. She seemed to notice his gaze, turning towards him. "What?" she inquired.

A devious grin rose on the treasure hunter's face. "I've got an idea."

Celes saw through him in an instant. "Hold on-"

"You want Maria safe and sound?" Locke mused, turning to the impresario. "What if the one he captures isn't Maria?"

"Hold on-!"

The impresario seemed to get what he was saying. "You mean to have a decoy perform," he prompted. "And when Setzer drops in...!"

"_Hold_ on-!"

Locke nodded. "We need an airship. You need your lead actress safe and sound. Let Celes take the stage, and everyone gets their way."

"Hold _on_-!"

"Excellent, excellent, excellent!" the impresario cheered. "We'll do it! The afternoon performance always goes faster than-"

"**_Hold on, _dammit!**" Celes shouted suddenly, storming up to Locke. "Are you seriously asking me to dance on stage and sing until the skylight breaks like some opera floozy?"

Locke made to swallow before he realized the inside of his mouth had frozen. "This guy is the only way we're gonna get to Vector," he argued. "Play him up a little bit, and we'll be fine!"

Celes's glare intensified. Locke felt the ice start to crawl up his tongue.

"It's a win-win situation," the impresario insisted. "If Setzer's impressed, he takes you, none the wiser. If you're not up to par, he'll leave the stage be."

The Lady of the Frost whirled on him. Locke found himself capable of swallowing again; the impresario started struggling to. "Are you saying I can't perform in an opera?"

"You used the term 'floozy'!" the theatre official defended. "I'm simply observing that you're not one for a song and-!"

Celes stepped forward and slapped him in the face. Somehow she had managed to take one of her gauntlets off without anyone noticing. "The opera house is to the south, right?" she demanded. "I'll meet you there, and I swear I'll sing a better aria than that _Maria_ ever will."

She stormed off, slamming the door shut behind her.

Locke turned to the impresario, who was rubbing his cheek in pain. "I see what you did there," he reprimanded.

"The _first_ time you tell a woman she can't do something," the impresario informed him, "she will go to every effort to prove you wrong. She's the type to wise up after the first, though; sorry I shot your bolt."

"Clever bastard," Locke reprimanded, pulling the door open.

Celes was standing there, still as the ice she commanded.

All of ten paces away was _Terra_, in a new dress astonishingly reminiscent of her old one, her hair tied back in a tail again. The moment she caught sight of Locke, the dancer looked between the two of them and said, "I guess getting an Imperial ship wasn't going to work?"

"How are you here so quickly?" Celes demanded.

"I was only an hour behind you," Terra protested. "I just had to wait for Cyan to get me some clothes."

"How did Cyan get you clothes so quickly?" Locke inquired.

Terra was about to speak before she saw the impresario standing behind them. "He... ran very fast," she mused.

The impresario only laughed, amused.

Celes and Locke exchanged glances and shrug. "Come on," Locke prompted. "We'll give you the rundown en route."

* * *

Draco: I _think_ I'm going to stop here and wait for some reviews, but I wouldn't count on it.


	25. The Impresario

Draco: With apologies to Jake Kaufman, Tommy Pedrini, and Brent Black.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**The Impresario**

"What the hell is this!?"

The impresario turned to find Celes standing there with a look of fury on her face. They were at the opera house, and it was late enough for the night sky to obsure any flying airships; Locke and Terra were already in position, and Celes had already changed into Maria's finest dress and ribbons - which didn't mitigate her glare whatsoever. In one hand was a copy of the script/sheet music, and as she got the impresario's attention she slammed the script into the nearest table.

"It's two hours to performance," the impresario stated, worried. "Haven't you got your lines already?"

"I'll be surprised if it _matters_," Celes protested. "What is this _farce_?"

The impresario sighed, setting one hand on his head. "You chose to participate in the night performance," he insisted. "Five Mime Theatre always puts on two shows - one earlier, for the more _cultured_ audiences, and one later, for the younger crowd."

Celes was confused. "Why the hell would you need a separate performance for the 'younger crowd'?" she demanded.

"Because classical music is not well-liked by that generation," the impresario admitted. "We don't do anything to stop anyone from attending either show, but that's the word that gets spread."

"So you completely _butcher_ one of the greatest operas _in the world_ just to sate a cheap crowd?" Celes accused.

"Look," the impresario insisted, "if you had brought this up sooner, I would invite you to take it up with Klauser and Baldesion, but everything is already prepared and positioned. If you need Setzer's airship, just grin and bear it."

Celes groaned. She had no reason to believe that Setzer was going to drop in after this show - not if he was looking for a _good_ performance. "Fine," she snapped. "But you damn well better make sure this gets changed afterward. This is disgusting."

With some difficulty - a dress is not easy to move in - the Lady of the Frost stormed off, making her way to her dressing room.

She was surprised to find a figure in dark, tight garb standing there, knife in hand.

Celes went for her sword before she remembered she couldn't wear a sword with a dress. Her gaze went about, finding that they were alone; then she raised her hands, snowflakes trailing from the fingertips. The figure raised its empty hand defensively before reaching up and pulling off its cowl - revealing the face of Locke Cole, his hair unbound.

"You would not believe how stuffy it is in there," he warned.

"Why are you dressed like a ninja?" Celes inquired.

"Ninjas don't dress like this," Locke reprimanded.

"Shadow does," Celes countered.

"He's an assassin," Locke corrected. "He dresses for intimidation and to hide his face. This is what all the stagehands are wearing. This way we don't show up against the backdrop."

Celes chuckled. "So, you and Terra are going to be dressed like assassins for the entire show?"

Locke angled his head. "Something like that," he mused. "What were you up to?"

The former general scoffed, offering him the script and stepping past him. "I can't believe I have to put up with this dress for something designed to satisfy teenagers who can't handle opera."

The treasure hunter looked over the sheet of music. After scanning the first page, he started humming the overture, briefly; then he turned to Celes. "It fits the music," he mused. "It would probably be alright just to listen to."

"You know _Maria and Draco_?" Celes inquired, turning to him.

"As far as the songs go, anyways," Locke admitted. "I've never actually seen a performance."

"You should have been here sooner," Celes replied. "There's no way Setzer's going to think this is 'worthy of shining alongside' Maria."

Locke sighed, setting the script down on a dresser of sorts. A long moment of quiet passed; then he turned to the Lady of the Frost.

"For what it's worth, you look beautiful."

Celes blushed lightly. "I... thanks," she admitted. "It's a pain to move around in, though."

The monstrel chuckled. "Yeah, well... formal wear does that," he agreed. "At least a suit has separate legs."

"When have _you_ ever worn a suit?" Celes inquired, turning to the treasure hunter.

"I... it was..." Locke lowered his gaze. "That was... a good while ago."

Too late did Celes realize when he would have worn a suit - with Rachel. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Locke shook his head. "No, it's alright," he assured her. "You had no way of knowing."

There was a long quiet; then Celes coughed lightly. "I... I should probably... get this... _script_ memorized," she prompted, picking up the set of paper and starting to a small table - upon which sat a half-finished meal.

"Hey... Celes?"

The former general turned. "What is it?"

Locke sighed. "When... During that situation with Valigarmanda," he prompted. "You... Why were you so upset when he was talking about Terra?"

Celes shook her head. "I've been serving the Imperial army for a good while," she admitted. "When the Emperor introduced me to Terra, he called her a 'critical measure' - a last resort for when the last resort fails. And that was the last time I heard anyone call her by name. I thought it was just Kefka, but the soldiers, too - they call her _Flare Dancer_ whenever she's in action, and _pyro __witch_ when they're off-duty. Knowing what that crown did..." She scoffed, shaking her head. "I hate it. When Valigarmanda was just calling her the 'one who freed him with fire', it just brought back all those memories."

"I see," Locke mused.

He slipped the stagehand cowl back over his head and opened the door, leaving Celes alone in the dressing room. Idly, her hand went into the pocket of her dress, drawing out a gold coin; the 'good-luck charm' of the former Figaro king.

The surface was engraved with the face of Edgar Roni Figaro.

Celes snickered, bracing the coin and flipping it into the air. "I didn't think a king would show favouritism between his princes," she admitted, catching it in her plam. "Let alone between..."

She fell quiet - for now the coin was engraved with the face of Sabin Rene Figaro.

"...twins..."

Curious, she held the coin between two fingers, turning it with a third. The coin was two-headed, just with differing heads; one coin had Sabin's face, and the other had Edgar's face.

_"Was your father a gambling man?"  
__"Not exactly."_

With a chuckle, Celes realized what the Figaro king had meant. "That's... kinda sweet," she admitted. Her smile faded. _How would you hide that? If you're trying to rig a bet, they'll notice one of the faces._ A moment's pause; then she shifted her grip on the coin, so that it was trapped between the thumb and index finger of a closed fist; Sabin's face was hidden by the curled finger, leaving only the rim of the gold.

"I guess that could work."

+x+x+x+

"Ten minutes to curtain-rise, places!"

Terra and Locke were both 'dressed like assassins' as they got out of the way for the actors to take place. Terra wasn't familiar with the performance (as far as her broken memory had to say about it), so she couldn't say anything about Five Mime Theatre deriving from the original - Locke, however, had quelled any belief that this could be a decent show when they had been instructed to set up the interior of a castle dungeon.

To be fair, they had spared no expense on the effects. The dungeon in question could have been part of Doma Castle (Locke could have sworn it was a brick wall when he had first seen it), the backdrop was a night sky that was _just_ dark enough to make the stagehands invisible (with very convincing lights pinned to it to act as stars and a rather impressive full moon), and as Celes took position on a high ledge, she found herself showered with shimmering sparks that made her look positively _spectral_. Klauser and Baldesion were back-to-back in the center; with the script having them take alternate lines, one section of the set had been designed to rotate - without being separate from the rest or even showing any indication that it was there until it began moving.

"You're sure this is going to get us a ride to Vector?" Terra asked Locke as the impresario was counting down.

"Absolutely not," Locke muttered.

The curtains began to ascend - and then, three seconds later, a _deep_ chorus began to sing.

"_Loo~k into the sins of your pa~st!  
Lo~ve as if today were your-_"

That was as far as they got; at that moment, someone high above the stage shouted, "**STOP!**"

Everyone - actors, stagehands, musicians, audience, impresario - everyone's gaze went skyward. One panel of the skylight that served as a roof was open, and now, descending on a rope, was a man in a long coat of black leather with golden trim, a deep black shirt beneath it (which was open to reveal _another_, white shirt beneath _that_), and a fine pair of black leggings. His hair was silver, and flayed skyward, and his face was very pale, adorned with scars that stood out against his flesh. On the front of his jacket's left shoulder was a series of gold pins marking playing card suits; spade, heart, club, diamond.

His descent was littered by his own shouting; "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, _stop!_" He landed with another loud "**_Stop!_**" The rope continued to trail down after he released it, and as the last notes faded he turned to the impresario, who was standing just off-stage. "What the hell is this!?"

The impresario made his way up the steps nearby. "_Who_ are you?" he demanded.

The newcomer gave him a look. "I came in through the skylight, on a rope, hanging from an airship, and I have playing card suits pinned to my jacket. Who do you _think_ I am?"

"Sorry," the impresario corrected, "that was meant in the context of, _Who_ are you and _what_ have you done with Setzer Gabbiani?"

"I came across a copy of your _script_," the man - Setzer - reprimanded, reaching into his jacket and coming out with a set of papers. "What is this _farce_?"

Celes had to resist the urge to laugh upon hearing her own words repeated by the man who had intended to praise the play; the impresario looked incredibly awkward. "We... put on separate performances... for audiences that dislike classical-"

Setzer slapped him with the script. Locke, Celes, Klauser, and Baldesion all winced; the script wasn't long, but sheet music, as a rule, takes up several more pages than a set of lines on its own.

"You have no reason to butcher this most wonderful of performances just because you happen to have a crowd that can't handle classical music!" the gambler reprimanded. Then, turning to the audience; "I mean no offense, by the way; opera is a very acquired taste." Back to the impresario. "You eliminated an entire setting, you tore down one point of the love triangle, and you turned this love story into some cheap _Romeo and Juliet_ rip-off!"

"It still fits the music!" the impresario protested.

Setzer slapped him with the script again. This one knocked him down, and the gambler threw the script down on his legs. "Look, dental floss," he snapped, "if you have any respect for _Maria and Draco_, you will never let this farce be heard again unless it is acknowledged as _parody_. And if you did this on purpose because you were scared that bodyguard in the rafters wouldn't stop me, I don't blame you, but you still ought know better than to force _anyone_ to participate in... _this!_"

Then he turned to the set and raised a hand to Celes, who was still on the high platform - although the shower of ethereal sparks had been halted when Setzer had dropped in. "Maria!" he called. "My plan was to wait until the curtains fell, and take you for a flight of celebration! Now, however, I offer you escape from this ruinous pretense for performance!"

Celes rolled her eyes. "Oh, my hero," she called sarcastically.

The impresario shot upright. "Wait," he mused. "Bodyguard in the _rafters_?"

"What," Setzer mused, turning to him and lowering his hand, "was he supposed to wait until after the fact?"

"The only one who even _remotely_ fits the description of 'bodyguard' is with the stagehands!" the impresario insisted.

Setzer was concerned at this point. "Wait, then who...?"

Everyone - Setzer, the actors, the stagehands, the audience, the musicians, and the impresario - everyone gazed skyward to see someone standing on the rafters with something large and heavy before them. They seemed to realize that they had been spotted; a loud scoff sounded, and then a twisted voice shouted, "Oh, screw this!"

"Is that an anvil?!" the impresario cried.

It _was_; with a loud grunt, the hidden figure shoved it off the edge of the rafters, causing it to plummet towards the stage; Setzer and the impresario dove in opposite directions as it smashed through the stages, throwing wooden splinters everywhere. The crowd burst with a sequence of panicked screams, everyone taking off towards the door, and the anvil dropped leapt after his projectile with a laugh. Klauser and Baldesion took off past the stagehands as he landed - wrapped in blue denim, with navy hair and bug-eyed glasses.

"I know him," Terra realized.

Locke turned. "What?"

The dancer tore off her cowl to bare her face. "Ultros," she realized. "He's a kraken, he tried to drown me while we were getting away from the Returner base. He's the reason Sabin was separated from us."

"You've got to be kidding me," Locke muttered, turning back to the group.

Setzer had recovered while they were talking, and Ultros was busy eyeing Celes - who was trapped on the high platform, the ladder she had used to get up there having been taken away. The kraken had started to advance forward when Setzer hurled a hand of cards at him - and these cards _cut into his flesh_, through all the denim. Ultros yelped, pulling away, and turned to Setzer, who had already drawn another set in his other hand.

"Ugh," he groaned. "Meathead."

"Heads up, slimy!"

Ultros whirled around as Locke leapt forward, still cowled and wrapped, with a knife in hand and a massive bag (in which were Celes' armour and his and Terra's clothes) in the other; the creep's attempt to dodge still got him skimmed by the blade, and left him an easy target for Setzer's toss of cards. The kraken tumbled off the stage, and Setzer quickly grabbed the loop of rope that had formed. "Maria!" he called, throwing the loop towards her; she caught the end, and a further deal of rope landed between them. Setzer quickly gave the rope a fierce tug, causing the rope to retract and dragging him towards the skylight.

The kraken recovered as he took off, glancing around; the only ones left around the stage were Locke, Terra, Celes, the kraken, and a rapidly-retreating Setzer. With a roll of his eyes, he grabbed the edge of the stage, pulling himself up - and a mass of tentacles emerged from around him, some of them lunging towards Locke and some going in Celes' direction.

All of them pulled back when a bolt of fire connected with one of them.

Terra leapt out from behind the set. "Go!" she called. "I'll keep him distracted!"

Locke wasn't so sure. "Terra-!"

"I'll be fine!" she insisted. "I can take him!"

Celes leapt down, landing with some difficulty in her dress, as the rope started to run out. "Locke, take the rope!" she shouted.

Locke sheathed his blade and grabbed the rope, and he and Celes were dragged skyward with all haste. The skylight panels were large enough that they didn't have to worry about running into the frame, and Ultros' attempts at grabbing them were quickly shot down by a bolt of Terra's fire.

"Yeouch!" The kraken whirled around at Terra, who landed with one hand on the floor - although she was still in the stagehand garb, she had left the cowl behind, leaving her face bare. "You're that pretty thing from the river!" he realized.

"And you're the seafood soup," Terra reprimanded.

Ultros leaned his head back. "Oh, hah hah," he mused. "Very funny." His tentacles writhed around him as he spread his arms tauntingly. "You wanna play, huh?"

Terra only raised one hand forward, palm skyward.

"I should warn you: something is happening to me. Something I don't understand."

Then she raised one hand skyward, palm forward.

"Which means I have no way of knowing how much I'm going to hurt you."

* * *

Draco: Okay, _now_ I feel like Brian Clevinger.


	26. There's Nothing Like Flying

Draco: Protip, ice _milk_ is not just a bland-name version of ice _cream_. Overly dramatic disgust in an empty house like a **_boss_**.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**There's Nothing Like Flying**

Setzer arrived at the interior of the _Blackjack_ without too much trouble. He had set up his escape rope to release all the rope it had and then draw back on a pull trigger, but there was also a crank to hasten the process, which he quickly advanced to and started pulling. "Come on," he insisted, "tell me that creep didn't get at her..."

_Whirr whirr whirr whir-__**clank!**_

The connection of metal on metal, and the clatter of several pieces of metal against each other, preceded his rope's advancement slowing significantly, and he paused. "What the...?" He resumed cranking after a moment, but it continued to remain slow; there was a further clattter, just briefly, before the rope sped back up.

A figure dressed all in black shot out of the escape entry, landing on the railing with a massive bag in hand.

Setzer released the crank, going for his cards. "What the-!?"

The cowled figure quickly hopped off the railing and towards the gambler. "Sorry about that," he mused, "the thing's full of armour." He quickly tossed the bag to the side before drawing a knife.

"You're Shadow," Setzer mused. "The blade for hire."

'Shadow' broke out laughing. "No, sorry," he insisted, reaching for his cowl. The thing was pulled off, revealing a head of light brown hair and an amused smirk. "Locke Cole, treasure hunter."

Setzer rolled his eyes. "You must have been with the stagehands," he realized. "That's what the impresario was talking about." Pointing at the escape entry, he demanded, "Did Maria grab the rope?"

Locke shook his head. "Nope."

Then a figure in dress and ribbons with blonde hair emerged, grabbing the railing and pulling herself up. "I _told_ you to put my armour in a case!" she snapped at Locke.

"A case would have just made it heavier!" Locke protested. "I almost dropped that thing on the way up, if it had been in a case I never would have kept my grip on it!"

An irritable groan. "Whatever," she muttered, stepping towards the dismissed bag.

In Setzer's mind, Maria didn't talk like that, but he'd never actually spoken with her in person. However, he knew for a _fact_ that Maria didn't own armour, which meant- "You're not Maria," he realized.

"Lady of the Frost, Celes Chere," the 'not-Maria' introduced, pulling the bag open and digging through.

"The _Imperial general?_" Setzer cried out.

"_Former_ general," Locke corrected. "She ditched the Empire."

Setzer glanced at Celes. "Then why does she still introduce herself as-"

"Did you seriously cut yourself with your _cards_?" Locke interrupted, pointing at Setzer's leg.

"Ah, hell," Setzer groaned, folding the hand. "Is it bleeding?"

He was interrupted when the cut in question _froze_, causing him to pull his hand away; astonished, he turned to Celes, who had one hand extended back towards him.

"That's why," Locke replied.

Celes pulled away from the bag, turning to Locke. "Where's my sword?" she demanded.

Locke blinked. "I put it in there," he insisted. "Why isn't it...?"

Both of them realized it at the same time. "Terra."

+x+x+x+

"Hold still, sweetcakes!"

Terra, still in the Opera House, was having trouble. Ultros had definitely stepped up his game since their last meeting; he didn't have the water to protect him from the dancer's flames, but he was arguably _better_ without it, weaving around attacks and lunging his tentacles after her. She couldn't get close enough to try and strike his body with another shock, and if she tried to do it to his tentacles it would only trap them around her.

This left her dancing away from the kraken, not daring to turn her back to him, as she made her way further backstage. The stagehands and actors had long since fled, which left no one for her to risk being harmed as Ultros rampaged towards her. "Come on, pretty thing!" he taunted. "That all you got? Show me something _new!_"

"You're one to talk!" she called back, scanning the area; she knew it was around here somewhere. "You're just a fish out of water!"

There!

Ultros lashed all the tentacles he had towards her, and Terra quickly arced into a spin, leaping away from the concentrated strike. She landed with a slide, grabbing her weapon - Celes' rune-engraved sword, which she had meant to throw to its owner when Setzer dropped in at the end of the show. The blade was pulled from its sheath; then she turned the sheath in hand, gripping it like a blade itself as Ultros turned to face her.

"Now, showtime."

One tentacle flew forward, but she stopped it on the sheath before cleaving the tip off with the blade. Another grabbed the hold and tried to pull it from her grip, but her firm hold meant it only drew her away from another two that tried to crush her between them. She quickly pried it free, spinning to strike away the next two that tried to grab her and landing right before him.

The last two tried to grab her by the legs.

She only leapt into a backflip, throwing a bolt of fire that slammed into his chest; she moved forward at the peak of her jump, landing with a pointed kick on his back that sent voltage racing through his form, and Ultros shouted in pain as Terra leapt away, landing with a skid and sheathing Celes' sword as the kraken struggled against the shock.

And this time, he _won_.

Terra stepped back when Ultros whirled around, grinning. "Did you really think the same attack would work?" he taunted.

Four tentacles went for a direct hit; the other four spread out around the blow, so she couldn't leap away.

And she didn't.

She raised one hand before her, and chill _spun_ before her, forming a spiral of icy wind that threw Ultros' tentacles aside; then she lashed her palm forward, and a huge chunk of ice flew forward, slamming into his shoulder and sending him spinning away.

"Where the hell did that come from?!" the kraken demanded.

Terra shook her head. "No idea."

Then she drew Celes' sword and danced forward as he tried to lash at her, blade and sheath striking the attacks away, before arriving immediately before him and raising the blade's tip to his neck.

"This is your last chance," she swore. "If you attack us again, only fortune will keep you alive, for we will not do so willingly."

Ultros gulped, his tentacles retracting into his back; then he took off with his hands above his head. Terra promptly sheathed Celes' sword, stepping away with the intention of getting outside where Setzer's airship could see her.

+x+x+x+

"Why the _hell_ would you impersonate Maria Benett? And in a _farce_ like that, no less?"

Setzer irritated demand drew Celes and Locke to turn away from one another, seeing the gambler having spread his hand of cards again. Celes only rolled her eyes. "I didn't realize what a farce it was until two hours before the show, and by then it was too late to demand a rewrite."

"That still doesn't explain why you were there and she wasn't," Setzer reprimanded.

Celes shook her head. "You have an airship, we have business in Vector, and Jidoor doesn't _actually_ have Imperials patrolling its streets," she summed up. "This was the fastest way to get your attention."

The gambler gave her a look. "You're not seriously going to ask me to fly into Imperial territory," he snapped.

"You're not scared of the Empire, are you?" Celes taunted.

"It's not a matter of my nerves," Setzer retaliated. "Give me one good reason why I should help you."

The former general chuckled. "So you _are_ scared of the Empire," she mused.

Setzer threw his cards.

Celes lashed her hand forward, and ice wrapped itself into claws around her hand, impaling each of the cards before it could connect. Locke acted while his back was turned, kicking his shoes off his feet and into Setzer's stomach; his feet became blades as he cracked his knuckle against the handle of his knife, and he shot forward before the gambler could turn. His hooked fingers hooked through his jacket, overshirt, and undershirt as he raised his knife to Setzer's throat.

"Come on," Locke insisted, "two can play at that game."

The ice wrap on Celes' hand shattered, and she let the cards fall to the floor, swinging her hand like she had gotten it wet with something unpleasant. "I hate doing that," she muttered. Turning to Setzer; "Take the cards out."

Setzer reached into his pocket, drawing out a still-boxed deck of cards and throwing them to the floor.

"_All_ of the cards."

The gambler sighed tightly, lashing his arm down as a long series of cards scattered to the floor.

Locke stepped away at this point, skating away as Celes stepped forward. "We want to go to Vector," she told him. "What do _you_ want? I'm certain we can come to an agreement."

"What do I want?" Setzer mused. A hum passed through his lips as he glanced between the two of them. "Come with me."

+x+x+x+

The gambler let the two of them to what looked like a full-fledged _casino_ \- blackjack, roulette, craps, _everything_. One blackjack table was slightly isolated from the others; Setzer walked around and took the dealer's seat, prompting Celes and Locke to take two of the player's seats.

"Why do you want to go to Vector so badly?" Setzer asked.

"Prisoners," Locke answered. "Monstrous prisoners. And their blood being used."

"A rather impersonal cause for which to risk your lives in enemy territory," Setzer observed.

"We have questions," Celes insisted. "And we have it on good authority that those prisoners will have answers."

The gambler snickered. "So, that's it," he mused. "You would march into the Imperial capital on the off chance that their prisoners have answers to questions from people that they don't even know."

Celes shook her head. "You'd know all about off chances, wouldn't you?" she mused.

Setzer sighed. "Do you know why I wanted to capture Maria?"

Locke realized what he was saying in an instant. "You aren't seriously implying-"

"Don't," Celes warned, seeing the treasure hunter start to rise from his seat. Locke fell back into the chair as she turned back to Setzer. "That's it, then?" she mused. "You'll take us to Vector, if I..." she fished around for words before finishing, "take a victory flight with you."

A light chuckle. "If this is urgent," he promised, "if you're... looking for some healing technique for a dying friend - I can wait until you come back alive." Before Locke could speak, he raised a hand and added, "And your opinion of urgency might be different from mine, so I'm not going to demand that you explain what your urgent business is."

Celes sighed. "You're willing to take a chance to have time with a lady, huh?" she inquired.

Setzer beckoned to the card-suit pins on his jacket's shoulder. "You're talking to the guy who pilots an airship named _Blackjack_," he reminded.

Locke turned to him. "Celes..."

"Then why don't we leave it to a lady I _know_ you'll listen to," Celes offered, drawing out a gold coin and bracing it between thumb and index finger of a closed fist.

The gambler raised an eyebrow. "You'd decide it all on the flip a coin?" he inquired.

"Heads, you take us to Vector," Celes mused. "You drop us off south of the city with your phone number, and when I call you, you drop your escape rope and pick us up without slowing down. Tails, I take a victory flight with you, no strings attached. Either way, you drop us off at Zozo when we're done, and you do what you want."

Setzer chuckled, bowing his head. "Alright, then," he mused. "Let it hit the table."

Celes braced the coin and flipped it, the _ting_ of nail against gold echoing in their ears as it turned in the air; it clattered softly against the felted table, coming to a stop with much more haste than it would against the floor.

Gazing up at the gambler was a clean, handsome face befitting royalty.

The Lady of the Frost breathed a sigh, raising her gaze to Setzer. "So," she mused, a light smile rising on her face, "are you a man of your word?"

Setzer chuckled, raising his gaze to Celes. "I'll let Lady Luck decide my course of action," he insisted. "Can you honestly say that you are so willing?"

Celes' smile faded. "What?"

The gambler lifted the coin upright and spun it, letting it twirl on the felted surface, and his voice was slow as he spoke. "_The two-sided mint is the rule, not exception / And would you not feel quite the fool of deception /__ To find the same face on both sides of the coin?_"

The gold came to a stop - and Setzer's brow furrowed when he saw a much rougher face looking up at him.

"Should have seen that coming," Celes reprimanded of herself. "Of course a gambler's going to call off a deal if he finds he's been cheated.

Setzer picked up the coin, looking over it. "Two faces... but not two of the _same_ face," he observed. "Who's coin is this?"

"It belonged to the former king of Figaro," she replied. "That's King Edgar and his twin brother Sabin."

"That's... rather heartwarming," Setzer admitted, getting to his feet and pocketing the coin. "Now, I believe you were in a hurry?"

Locke turned to him. "Wait, what?"

The gambler chuckled. "Whenever you think you're right, you're wrong," he reprimanded. "And _that_ is a big mistake."

"Hold on," Celes insisted. "You're going to help us?"

"If a coin is not standard, the prettier side is always heads," Setzer insisted, making his way around the table. "I'll lend you a hand."

Celes grabbed his jacket before he could depart. "Stop by the opera house first," he insisted. "We need to pick up Terra."

+x+x+x+

Terra was waiting for them outside the opera house when they landed - it didn't take very long, for the ship had not been moving when they had boarded. They didn't _quite_ touch down, but it dropped low enough that they could have jumped down safely. They instead opted to extend a boarding plank, which Terra quickly made her way up.

Waiting there already were Celes - who had changed back into her armour - and Locke - who was currently re-tying his bandanna. The cloth stubbornly refused to conceal his hair again, leaving him to bind it like a headband so that it would just keep his hair out of his face. Upon arriving, Terra handed Celes her sword. "Sorry I took this out of the bag."

"You were going to hand it to me before the last act so I could threaten Setzer, weren't you?" Celes mused.

"Something like that," Terra admitted.

The three of them drew in the boarding plank; then Celes and Locke left Terra to change and made their way up to the deck. "We're good," Locke prompted. "Take off."

"Excellent," Setzer mused. "To Vector, then!"

"_South_ of Vector," Celes correct. "We can't let the Empire notice you."

The gambler turned a small crank next to the helm, and a sequence of groans from within the ship turned both of their heads as it started moving again. "That didn't sound good," he mused. "You keep this thing maintained, right?"

Setzer angled his head. "I imagine it's about due time I look her over," he admitted, "but we can worry about that later."

"You're _sure_ about that?" Locke inquired.

"Life is a game of chance," the pilot insisted. "You play your cards, and Fate plays hers."

Locke blinked. "Um..."

It was too late for second thoughts; they were already over the water, en route to Vector.

* * *

Draco: Alright, I'm going to call it here. There's a track I put off using and I think it'll work well for next chapter.


	27. There Will Be Blood

Draco: Spent a straight week playing Type-0. They need a better level grind location; [spoiler ramble]. I think I've reasoned out a way to make it work, though... Also, I will never take my stupid useless school knowledge for granted again.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**There Will Be Blood**

South of Vector was the town of Albrook; Celes insisted Setzer let them off there so they had a place to strategize. Once they had arrived, she, Locke, and Terra made their way to the pub - even in an Imperial occupied city, anyone could vanish into a bar crowd.

"So," Locke prompted once they each had a seat and a drink. "What's the plan?"

Celes circled the rim of her glass with one finger - they each had a glass of Raiden Cola, not wanting to risk anything harder. "We don't need to go to the Imperial Palace itself," she mused. "They'll have their prisoners in the Asura labs, and there's a separate entrance in the Theta sector that go straight there. But the Emperor doesn't half-ass security - they'll recognize me and Terra, and they'll capture us the moment they see us."

Terra reached for her head; Locke had given her his bandanna to hide her distinctive green hair, and she had managed to wrap it to completely obscure her helm. "What if we try to disguise ourselves?" she inquired.

The idea prompted Celes to slide her gaze over at Locke, who shrugged. "If you can find a uniform that fits, then _maybe_," he admitted, "but I still figure they'll see through it in an instant."

"Maybe... we could try and fake a surrender?" Terra offered. "Wait until they get us inside, and-"

"That's not going to work," Celes insisted. "They'll see it coming - the moment we try and claim surrender, they're going to bind us and level Ramuh rounds on our heads - and that's if we're _lucky_." Her gaze fell. "And... I wouldn't put it past them to have another crown to take over you with."

Terra closed her eyes, not wanting to think on that.

Locke sighed, glancing around. "Now is probably a good time to mention that we've got Returners in Vector," he whispered.

Celes turned to him. "What!?" She managed to keep her voice down despite her shock.

"Not a lot," the treasure hunter warned. "We've got, like, two guys. And that's assuming the Empire hasn't sniffed either of them out. But maybe they can help us sneak in."

"The Gamma Sector," Celes realized. "You've got them hiding in plain sight among the public crowd."

"Bingo," Locke confirmed. "They've spent enough time that they should know the city by heart. If nothing else, they'll be able to help us figure out a convincing distraction."

Terra remained quiet as they spoke, having the worst feeling that something was wrong with this...

+x+x+x+

"I asked for that, didn't I."

Upon their arrival in Vector, Celes had led them to the 'Gamma Sector' - or, in less Gestahlian terms, the residential area. The Returners had received a map of the zone, so once they were among the housing, Locke was able to figure out which building their Returners were stationed in.

What they found was a home covered in holes and spattered blood.

Celes set her hand on a gap in the wall - the hole wasn't punched through, as it would with a conventional firearm, nor did it carry any marks of the Feymarch rounds that Imperial soldiers normally used. Rather, the surface seemed to _wave out_, like water frozen amidst ripples from a thrown rock. "Bahamut rounds," she realized. "Whoever it is you guys sent, the Empire decided they were a serious threat. Enough shots from these things and you'll never know the victim existed. They hardly ever use Bahamut rounds except for execution by firing squad."

Locke scoffed. "Now what?" he mused.

"We'll have to head to the Theta Sector and sneak in to the Asura labs directly," Celes replied. "We just need to find a distraction."

"What kind of distraction did you have in mind?" Locke inquired.

Celes turned to him. "I was kind of hoping you had something to say," she admitted.

The treasure hunter clicked his tongue. "I've got nothing. Terra?"

Both of them turned to the dancer, who had been silent since their arrival in Vector. "I... I have an idea," she admitted. "But... I'm not sure it'll work."

"Any idea is better than trying to charge in there with guns blazing," Celes insisted. "What do you have in mind?"

+x+x+x+

The Theta Sector was best described as a storage area. A large number of warehouses filled the zone, most of them filled with outdated or undesirable goods from the more... _unnecessary_ shops that made up the Zeta Sector. With an entrance to the Asura labs of the Imperial Palace, they knew better than to try and make their way across the rooftops; rather, they wove between the warehouses, entering the nearest building whenever a patrol risked sighting them.

Soon enough, they could see the path to the labs that Celes had mentioned - with two Imperial soldiers standing on guard, alongside a man in hooded robes who looked rather... officious.

"Two foot soldiers and a com officer," the former general observed, turning to Terra; the dancer had insisted to see who was on guard before she tried to plan. "What's your idea?"

Locke - who was back to wearing his bandanna - stopped her from answering, looking around. "Do any of the patrols come this way?" he asked.

Celes shook her head. "Intersecting paths just mean less coverage," she insisted. "No one comes where the lab guards can see them."

Terra turned at this point to Locke. "I'm going to need your knife."

The treasure hunter was caught off-guard by the request, but he nonetheless drew the weapon. "Alright," he mused, gripping it by the blade and handing it to Terra. As she accepted the handle, he added, "You fight a lot better with a sword than a knife, though. If you need a blade, you really ought-"

He was silenced when Terra turned and lashed her hand forward, the knife flying through the air and impaling itself in the com officer's knee with enough force to knock him down. The foot soldiers turned in a shock at seeing the man fall to the ground - which left Terra an opening in which to rush forward. One of the solders spun round with his weapon raised, only to get a nasty kick to the side that sent voltage rushing through him; the other had only time to notice before Terra leapt into the air, a blast of fire throwing him back.

The com officer was on his feet and had pried Locke's knife out of his leg, but Terra only braced an arm before her, causing a spiral of ice to beat away his attempt at striking her with it; then the ice shot forward, slamming into his heart.

Celes and Locke quickly rushed forward. "Where the hell did that come from?" the treasure hunter inquired.

"You're the second person to ask me that," Terra admitted, kicking the knife up and handing it back to him.

"There a reason you went for his leg?" Celes inquired.

Terra shook her head. "I was aiming for his head," she insisted. Turning back to Locke; "You're right, throwing a knife isn't easy."

+x+x+x+

The Asura labs were a sequence of tight hallways forged entirely of dark steel. Every intersection looked the same as every other, but Celes - who, though never having been there, knew the map of the palace by heart - was able to lead them through. She didn't know for certain where the prisoners would be, for several areas on the map she had been taught were marked _CLASSIFIED_; however, she decided the best thing to do would be to check them all, in order from nearest the entrance - so as to avoid backtracking if she was wrong.

The first area they came across (with an unlocked door, presumably because it was not _highly_ classified) looked to be an assembly line of sorts. The system was entirely automated - a relief for the three infiltrators, for that meant there was no one to notice them. It seemed to be near the midpoint; the machines were complete enough to be recognizable as Magitek Armour, yet unfinished enough that they clearly could not be piloted.

And this stage of the assembly was curious, for something _paper_ was being set into the machines.

"What... is that?" Locke inquired.

Without any barriers between the entryway and the construction - presumably to allow anyone who needed to fix something to access it immediately - it didn't take much for Terra to approach the machines. The papers seemed to be slightly oversized cards of sorts, covered in markings; Terra managed to snatch one such card from a mech on its way to the next stage of the assembly, bringing it back to the others.

Locke looked over it with a careful eye. "The pattern... it looks kinda like the ones on your sword," he mused, turning to Celes.

The Lady of the Frost drew her blade, comparing the two. "A little," she admitted. "Valigarmanda said it was common for magic, remember?"

Terra glanced at the assembly again. "But... Why?" she murmured. "It's just a pattern. There's no magic on this. Why would they put these in the mechs?"

Locke took the card from her and slipped it into his pocket. "Let's worry about the machines later," he insisted. "We've got to find their prisoners."

"Right..."

+x+x+x+

The next classified area was more secure, with a rather solid lock; Terra managed to burn through it with a finger full of flames, prompting the door to slide open. Sadly, there was nothing inside but firearms on lab tables - experimental weapons, most likely - and so they proceeded to the next one. The next couple areas had similarly useless contents, but at one point they came across a scientist in front of a transparent barrier, on the other side of which were _three swords_ \- one with a blade of icy cobalt, another with an edge of voltic gold, and a third of steel that bore a fiery crimson tint to it - each had a black sheath lain before it, with an emblem (flame, snowflake, and lightning bolt) near the entry.

The scientist had a clipboard in hand, and was jotting notes; immersed in his work, he was completely oblivious to the intruders behind him. Celes stepped up at the front, stepping up behind him before asking, "What's this?"

"The samurai on guard at Doma told us to start bringing swords," the scientist mused, not looking up from his papers. "The captain lasted longer with a bayonet on his rifle than he did trying to fire the damn thing. Of course, plain steel still puts us at a disadvantage, so we're gonna try and Feymarch some swords."

Locke looked over the trio. "Just the three?"

The scientist nodded, still not looking up from his paper. "Start with the vanguard, same as the bullets. Emperor Gestahl came by and gave them names - Flametongue, Icebrand, and Thunderblade."

Terra scoffed at the last name.

"Yeah, I was wondering why he used such a plain name on the last one," the scientist admitted, raising his gaze to the weapons. "I guess he just wanted to have a generic term for each in case he wanted to use it on m_OTHER OF BAHAMUT!_"

He had turned to face Terra as he had concluded, and his reaction on seeing the flare dancer told the three of them that this was as much information as they were going to get. Terra promptly lashed forward, driving a kick into his leg that sent voltage across his body. The strike had enough force that he started to tumble, but Locke managed to knee him in the face quickly enough that he didn't receive much more than a static shock; then Celes drew her rune-edged blade, lashing it across his neck.

He fell to the ground as the last voltage faded.

"Elemental swords," Celes observed, turning to the three blades as she sheathed her own.

Locke kicked up the clipboard, looking over the notes. "Looks like they're completed," he mused. "A trigger in the hilt to make them work - heat, chill, voltage. But the containment is code-sealed. We can't use them unless we threaten one of the-"

The crack of frost caused him to turn to see ice gathering before Terra, who proceeded to launch it into the glass barrier.

It proceeded to spread across the transparent surface and stay there.

"Reinforced glass," Celes reprimanded. "Bahamut rounds are the only things they've tested that can scratch this stuff quick. A chilled projectile isn't going to do much." She raised a hand before her, snowflakes trailing from the edge. "But thanks for the source..."

The ice spread began to shift, expanding; as Locke watched, sharp points emerged, arcing over the spread and digging into the surface of the glass. Slowly, but surely, the barrier began to strain; after a few moments, the glass shattered, falling inside.

Deciding to make himself useful, Locke hopped in and grabbed the weapons - sheaths in one hand, blades in the other - before hopping back out. Terra warily reached for the Thunderblade, gripping it by the handle and holding it before her. The trigger in the hilt was the slightest of indentations, completely nondescript; setting her thumb against it prompted a bright blue voltage to dance across the edge. Releasing the trigger didn't stop it; pressing it again _did_. She slid it into the corresponding sheath before taking the Icebrand and doing the same - the blade became cold enough that the air around it began to mist from the chill. Then she tried the Flametongue.

The entire edge went _white hot_.

"That one's gonna cut the cleanest," Locke observed.

"Or leave a horrid mess of whatever it cuts through," Celes countered.

Terra quickly dissuaded the heat, noticing that it took longer to fade off than the other two did, before sheathing it as well. "So, now what?" she asked. "Do we each take one?"

Locke shrugged. "I could probably make it work," he admitted, "but I prefer a knife."

Celes drew the Icebrand, weighing it in her grip. "It's a bit heavier than I'm used to," she insisted. "I might be able to work with it over time, but... let's save that until I've got room to practice with it."

Terra looked over the sheaths. The straps were designed to be worn over the back, but they also seemed to be adjustable in such a way that they could easily be worn at the hip. Taking the Thunderblade and Icebrand, she bound them across their back, crossed so that one could be drawn from either shoulder; when Locke made no attempt to wear the Flametongue, she adjusted its strap and bound it at her hip.

"I'll take them," she prompted.

Locke nodded. "Alright, then," he prompted. "Let's go find their prisoners."

+x+x+x+

There was only one classified area left - and in it, they found what they were looking for.

Six massive tubes of reinforced glass lay on either side of a massive walkway, surrounded on all sides but the walkway and each other by machines - and each was filled with a turmoil of green mist that was nearly white. One held a figure wrapped haphazardly in grey cloths, such that little but the eyes were visible. Another held a woman in bright white and deep red, with silver hair cut short; a third contained a girl wearing a suit of sorts in cold grey. The fourth held someone wearing a mask of aged gold and a cape of faded black; a fifth imprisoned a girl in a silvery-blue dress with light brown hair, and the sixth contained a man in dark, hooded red robes.

"Here we are," Celes mused. "Where's the release for these containments?"

Terra stepped toward the cage nearest her - the one holding the girl in the dress. "What's this gas?" she asked.

"Looks like their Pearl sedative," Celes replied. "Effective when misted dense, but it thins out pretty quickly when it's not completely contained." A moment's pause; then she spun round, shouting, "Wait, don't!"

The dancer was already low in preparation to leap, and she arced into a flip, a bolt of fire slamming into the glass. It connected and spread about ineffectively, leaving the glass undamaged, and Terra landed before it - closer than before.

"If a solid ice projectile didn't do anything," Locke reprimanded, "what made you think a blast of fire was going to?"

"I didn't," Terra insisted. "I just wanted to see if I could still dance when I'm wearing this many swords." With that, she drew the Flametongue, pressing the trigger to light up the blade, and reached it forward. Bringing the flat of the blade near the surface, she could see the glass starting to distort.

"_Weeeeelll!_"

The menacing voice prompted her to spin towards the source without thinking; Celes and Locke, who were looking at the man in the robes, did the same. Standing at the far end of the walkway, in his harlequin garb and clown makeup, was Kefka Palazzo, who stood with his hands clasped before him. "I _thought_ I felt someone wandering around here," he mused, setting two fingers over his chest before swinging his arms out. "And look! Here you all are!" He beckoned to the trio with both hands. "The dirty thief, Terrrrrrrrrra, and our fake traitor!"

"_Fake_ traitor?" Celes demanded. "I tried to cut you open!"

"Yeah, you kinda overdid it," Kefka hummed, reaching for the back of his neck. "The orders were 'convincing performance', not 'woman scorned'."

"First, I'm going _retch_," Celes snapped, "then, I'm going to _kill you_."

Locke looked between them. "What the hell is he talking about?" he demanded.

"_Bullshit_ is what he's talking about," Celes demanded. "Locke, ring Setzer, get him south of the city and tell him to watch for a flame."

Kefka laughed. "You play the part quite well!" he mused, taking a ridiculously campy pose. "But the show's over..."

Here he hooked his arms behind his back and leaned forward.

"..._General_ Chere."

"**Traitor** Chere!" Celes roared. "Your men killed those dancers at Figaro! You razed Doma with flaming poison! The Emperor _promoted you to General!_" Here she drew her sword, the engravings on the blade gleaming. "I have _betrayed_ the Empire! And you _know it!_

"And if _any_ of you would _dare_ to pretend otherwise, you underestimate the Lady of the Frost!"

Kefka groaned, reaching down to part his zebra tights from his left leg - and a handgun fell out of the legging, which he quickly kicked up to his feet. "The curtain's fallen, the story's done!" he protested. "Enough with the character!"

He raised his weapon and levelled it on Locke. "Or do you wait until the audience asks for an encore?"

One finger was set on the trigger.

Then a piercing note echoed through the air, causing everyone to flinch. Kefka's bullet flew over Locke's head, hit a high edge of the wall, and burst into voltage as he dropped the gun that had fired it. A moment's pause; then Terra glanced at the Flametongue, still burning, before directing her gaze to the containment tube she had set it against. There was a torn gap in the glass, the mist was very thin, and the girl in the blue dress was on her hands and knees. She shook her head weakly, grunting lightly, before raising her gaze and opening her mouth - and another, slightly different note tore through the air.

And all the containment tubes _shattered_, reinforced glass cascading across everyone as the mist that had been contained within began to fade.

Twin lights flowed from the girl's back, arcing into beauteous feathered wings; and she set one hand against her chest and opened her mouth, a third note rippling through the air - and Terra suddenly felt surprisingly... _awake_.

Movement in all directions prompted Kefka to look around; everyone who had been contained was rising.

Locke spurred them to move; "All of you, _run!_"

The siren in the dress was the first to act, leaping from her containment and spreading her wings to fly through the door the trio had left open. The one in the grey cloth leapt to the wall, and his entire figure became voltage, garments and all, as he vanished into the walls. The guy in the mask leapt down with a flare of his cape, revealing red garb and a thin figure below; the moment he landed, he took off down the hall so fast that it was a wonder anyone saw him move. The girl in the suit was wrapped in ice - not just her hands, but her _entire body_ encased in a massive frozen figure; Locke, Terra, and Celes had to leap aside as she barrelled down the hallway. The woman in white stumbled as she tried to get down, cutting her legs on the broken glass shards, and her departure looked rather less-than-stable.

Kefka was seething. "You bitches!" he snapped. "Get back here!" Leaving his pistol on the ground, he started forward, and Celes and Locke were about to stand before the door.

They were interrupted when someone else stood to bar the way.

It was the man in the robes who had been opposite the siren. It was clear now that he was standing that he did not wear his robes normally; the sleeves wavered loosely, indicating that he simply wore the garb over his shoulders. The hood was raised over his head, casting shadows to obscure his face completely, and his feet were bare - though the glass beneath them did not seem to cut into his flesh.

Kefka sighed, raising his right leg and knocking something out from under it - it seemed to be a shotgun, with a tube of sorts connecting to within. "You," he muttered, working the pump action and raising it to fire.

The shot was a flurry of clear water.

The main raised a hand from beneath his robes, revealing a bare arm of deep tan.

And _sheer flame_ ripped out of his palm, evaporating the water before it crossed the halfway point.

The Imperial clown lowered his weapon, concerned, as the man huffed, drawing his limb back under his robes.

"Do you think me one of the _Nosferatu_," he reprimanded, "that I would fall to such gentle waters?"

He set his other hand over his chest, revealing that both were bare.

"I'm flattered, in truth," he admitted. "The strongest of monsters!"

His gaze was lowered as he drew his hand back under.

"To be fair... After what this Empire has done to my family... I have not seen any of _them_ exude such..."

Something lit up a bright gold under his hood, backlighting a face of sheer anger.

"...**bloodlust**_._"

His hand grasped the shoulder of his robe and lashed it down, flames blazing across his helm as the robe was pulled from him - revealing a muscled figure clad in a kilt of menacing emerald cloth. Golden flames were gathered about his head, wreathing his hair like some infernous snow fairy; the robe was balled between his hands, and flame wrapped it before he hurled it forward. Kefka leapt for cover, prompting the enflamed garment to cross the air over the walkway and explode against the opposite wall.

"But then," the man added, "each _Nosferatu_ has an individual **eternity** in which they learn to _control_ their **hunger** \- to _bind_ their **rage!**"

Flames began to gather at the lower tip of his spine as those upon his helm arced skyward - forming what seemed to be _horns_.

"Whereas _my_** fury** has taken form with such..."

A streak of fire lashed skyward from the flame at his lower back, taking the form of a _tail_.

"..._suddenness..._"

Another streak emerged to his left, and then another to his right; then a fourth to the left, and a _fifth_ to the right.

"...that I have little more than time to observe its presence..."

Here he raised a hand before his face, heat swimming around it and distorting his face.

"...before it forces me to act."

That hand lashed to his side, and flames gathered upon it - and Locke stumbled back when he saw shining patterns, like those on Valigarmanda, light up across his flesh. The hand was drawn before him as he turned away, just slightly, cupping the flame in both hands - and the blaze turned _black_. Kefka had ventured out from his cover, trying to pick up his Ramuh-loaded handgun; he was halfway to the weapon before the man lashed the hand towards the clown, launching a bolt of dark fire across the room.

It connected with Kefka's back and _threw him across the room_.

Locke called to the group. "Setzer's en route!" he shouted. "Let's go!"

Terra took off down the hall, leaving flames in her wake; Locke was quick to take off after her. Celes made to follow, only to find her way obstructed; the yoko now stood between her and the door, his tails arcing in the air.

"That man called you General Chere," he observed.

"You take at face value the words of a man in clown makeup?" Celes demanded.

"You insisted that you were a traitor to this cause," the yoko continued. "If that is the case, I presume you will have no qualms against ending his life right now."

"With pleasure," Celes insisted, making to turn. She stopped halfway, pointing at the yoko. "Make sure they other prisoners got out of here," she insisted, "this place is positively labyrinthine."

At this point, the flaming tails dissipated into the air as their owner turned away. "Likewise."

He was halfway out when the flames on his helm vanished; but Celes was already turned away at this point, sword drawn to go after Kefka, and so saw nothing.

+x+x+x+

Most of the monstrous presences of his allies had left not only the palace but the city entirely; yet there was one presence that still lingered, and the yoko found it in a weapons storage, amidst a mess of broken firearms. The doors opening prompting the masked man to take an offensive stance; upon seeing who it was a sigh emerged from beneath the mask. "Damn it, man, show a little more."

"It's not my fault a werewolf can't pick up someone as furious as a monstrel pack," the yoko reprimanded. "What are you doing here, Zona?"

"Figured I'd smash up their weapons," the werewolf replied, a smile on his voice.

"That won't hardly slow them down," was the retaliation. "Come on, there supposed to be a ride waiting outside for us."

He was already turned around when a black cape was thrown over his head, draping his body like an impromptu robe. Upon turning to the one who threw it, Zona only shook his head. "Be a little more subtle, would you?"

"Come _on_."

+x+x+x+

The prisoners had left a swath of dead soldiers on their way out of Vector - and though the citizens were screaming of Imperial enemies, none of them were saying anything of monsters, which told Locke that they had been a little more subtle once they had got onto the streets. He and Terra made their way out to find four of them gathered there - the snow fairy in the suit, the siren in the dress, the thunder beast in grey, and the woman in white.

"Where's the other guy?" Locke demanded. Turning back to face the city, "Damn it, don't tell me-"

Something collided with him with enough force to knock him onto his back. The werewolf in the mask was standing there, and running out of the city was the yoko who had curb-stomped Kefka, with the masked man's cape over his head. "I believe you had a ride waiting?" the latter demanded.

Terra scanned the skies and caught sight of the Blackjack approaching from the east. She quickly arced into a flip, launching a bolt of fire towards it; the ship veered sharply to her right, although she knew the flame had been at no risk of contact, before a thin trail that she knew was Setzer's escape rope fell from it.

"He'll have enough rope to get all of us," Locke insisted. "If you can't fly, grab hold." Glancing around; "Celes? Where's Celes?"

"She elected to remain in the laboratory where we were imprisoned," the yoko replied.

Locke was silent for a moment; then he loosed a very fierce, very _loud_ curse that Setzer probably heard from the _Blackjack_. "**Traitor Chere!**" he roared.

The Blackjack was almost arrived, and picking up speed; Locke promptly stormed forward, leaping up to grab the rope and drag as much extra down as he could before it jerked back upward. Terra grabbed as soon after him as she could; she was quickly followed by the snow fairy, the werewolf, the woman in white, and the yoko. Upon making sure they were all there, the siren spread her wings, flying up towards the deck of the ship.

+x+x+x+

"When you said a flame, I didn't think you meant _at my ship_."

Setzer was on the deck, grumbling to himself as he waited for someone to get up from the escape entry. Rather than linger around the Vector skies, he was en route to Zozo, remembering Celes' words about that being their next destination once things had been decided. Glancing back at the entry to the deck; "Asura, I hope I got close enough."

"You needn't worry on that front."

"_Gyaahh!_" The voice from before the helm caused Setzer to release the wheel, tumbling back with a weak roll. He rose to a sitting position to see a girl in a blue dress standing there, a pair of angelic wings emerging upon her back. "Leviath," he muttered, "what was that for?"

"My apologies," the siren insisted, grasping the helm to see that it did not waver its course. "I am one of the prisoners who was held in the Empire's laboratory. We six have managed to safely board your vessel, along with the two who saved us."

Setzer got to his feet. "_Two_?" he demanded. "What of the third?"

"She's not coming."

Locke's voice caused Setzer to turn, seeing the treasure hunter storming up to the deck. "Get us back to Zozo," he insisted, his tone dark.

Having been through a fair share of failed relations himself, Setzer did not pry; he instead grasped the helm and directed the _Blackjack_ towards the pickpocket city.

+x+x+x+

Terra was sitting in a lounge of sorts in one corner of the airship's casino, reclining on a couch in an attempt to recover from the escape. Something about encounters with Kefka Palazzo always made her feel... _unkind_, in the aftermath. There was something in his aura - not only was it not human, it was _not natural_. Ramuh had mentioned the Empire making ghouls - perhaps that had something to do with it.

Whatever it was, she was not looking forward to any further encounters with him.

"Terra?"

The voice prompted the dancer to turn. The yoko who had fought Kefka was standing there, his head still shadowed by the cape that the masked werewolf had been wearing. She got to her feet, confused - she didn't recall introducing herself, nor Locke or Celes saying her name while he had been there. "I'm sorry," she murmured, "but... you... should I... know you?"

Her words caused the yoko to pull back slightly; but a sigh emerged from beneath the impromptu cowl he wore.

"I suppose I shouldn't expect you to remember. You were only a few days into this world."

Then he reached up and pulled the cape from his head - revealing a face with fiery golden eyes, and a head of _distinctive_ green hair.

"But a father... will never forget his child."

* * *

Draco: Agh, the bane of literation (novelization, whatever) and like works _everywhere_. A plot twist of mind-screwing and/or heart-wrenching intensity _must_ be honoured in the form of cliffhanger or _In Medias Res_; and yet, if the base of the story is not known to damn near everyone already, an audience will self-mandate personal witness before observing the author's version and inevitable added flavour. Aiya...


	28. Strange World

Draco: There is no better sound that can be applied to combat than the variable shear of a katana cutting through the air. I can get the 'frictionless slice' whistle constantly with a _backhand_ grip.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Strange World**

Locke was still fuming as he stormed down into the _Blackjack_'s casino. What he found was less than pleasant - the yoko who had fought Kefka was standing before Terra, with one hand on her helm and the patterns lit upon his flesh. Flames were scattering around his hair, and Terra looked like she was in pain - though she did not seem to cry out.

"Hey!" Locke shouted, charging forward. "What are you-?"

The yoko pulled his hand away from the dancer, and Terra very nearly fell to the floor before Locke managed to catch her. "Calm yourself," the former prisoner insisted. "She is merely sleeping."

"What the hell did you do to her?" Locke demanded.

The yoko closed his eyes, bowing his head; the flames vanished from around his helm, revealing hair of a very distinctive - and very _familiar_ \- green hue.

"Forgive me... for answering my daughter's questions."

+x+x+x+

_The branches of the trees around her lashed across her arms and face as she ran; twigs and stone dug into her feet with every step; and voices behind her drove her to keep running, despite the pain. The forest was thick, but she knew it wouldn't be enough - she couldn't outrun them forever._

_All she hoped to do was get ahead of them, just long enough..._

_It didn't take long before she ran into trouble, in the form of a solid stone wall. Panicking, she turned round, setting her back to the rock so that she could not be struck from behind. The voices were distant enough that she knew she had time; her legs gave way beneath her, and she slid to the earth, panting heavily before reaching into her pockets._

_Her hand came out holding a sheathed knife._

_The blade was pried from its hold, and she hesitated only long enough to sight her own horrified expression in the blade before sealing her eyes and raising it above her, with intention to bring it down with all the force she could muster._

_It came to a stop halfway down._

_"What are you doing?"_

_The voice prompted her to raise her gaze. A man stood there, clad in a kilt of sorts in deep emerald; his chest was bare, save for the straps of a pair of swords braced upon his back. His skin was all deeply tanned, and his hair was a curious green; his eyes were a fiery gold, and one hand was closed around the blade of her knife. Upon receiving her gaze, he released the weapon, prompting her to lower it at her side, confused. "Who...?"_

_There was a commotion from nearby, prompting the man to turn. A trio of men became visible through the trees, and the swordsman seemed to notice; motioning for her to stay back, he stepped forward, placing himself between the pursuers and the pursued._

_"Who are you?" one of the trio demanded._

_"I am Maduin Fuwa," the swordsman replied. "What business do you have in pursuing this woman?"_

_Another man stepped forward. "She's a maid at our boss' mansion," he snapped. "Bitch doesn't know her place."_

_The swordsman, Maduin, gave a heavy sigh, reaching for his swords. "So," he mused, "you're... _**_that_**_ kind of people."_

_The third reached for his hip, where the warrior noticed they each had a pistol holstered. "What are you talking about?" he demanded._

_"Those who believe that the slightest difference in position means that you have complete command over those below you," Maduin reprimanded. "Those who believe that her being in your employment means that you can do as you please to her."_

_He drew the swords, just enough to show the blades._

_"Those who are unforgivable."_

_The men each went to draw their weapons; but Maduin moved first, his blades screaming from their sheaths as he moved with a menacing flourish. The first one to draw his pistol found the edge of one sword brought through his arm, leaving his hand still closed on the pistol as it fell to the ground. The other blade was driven through his heart as the next man drew his weapon, firing it at Maudin while his back was turned; the swordsman only braced his unoccupied sword across his back, the bullet stopping against the flat of the blade._

_He quickly turned, pulling his weapon from the dead man's chest and lashing it through the barrel of the firearm; the man released his gun and stepped back from the blow from Maduin's other sword, but the warrior only arced into a spin, lashing a blade across his opponent's throat. The last man fired, but Maduin brought his next blow up to sever the bullet in half, the pieces colliding with the stone wall behind him before he drove a thrust into his opponent's skull; the gunner promptly fell back off the blade, slumping to the ground._

_With the three attackers dead around him, he arced into a single spin to scan his surroundings, bracing his swords at his side; then, once he was sure the area was safe, he whirled the weapons once in hand and slid them back into their sheaths before turning to the woman they had been pursuing._

_"Was your time in their service truly so despicable," he inquired, "that you would choose to take your own life?"_

_The woman shook her head. "It wasn't only them," she insisted. "Everyone I have ever served... All of them treat me as less than dirt. I've had enough of it. I'm done. There's nothing for me in this world."_

_She reached for the knife that had fallen at her side._

_Maduin's hand fell over the weapon before she could grasp it, and she raised her gaze to him - his expression was one of uncertain contemplation, but slowly he turned to face her._

_"What if... there were another?"_

_The woman was confused. "What are you saying?" she demanded._

_Maduin sighed, slowly pulling his hand away from the fallen blade. "Promise me... that you won't panic," he insisted._

_Uncertain, she nodded in confirmation._

_With a heavy sigh, Maduin raised a hand before him, held flat with the palm facing skyward; and as she watched, a flame began to gather there, slowly growing in his grip._

_"What the...?" Her gaze went up to the man holding that blaze her. "You...?"_

_"Would you escape this world?" Maduin asked. "If it were offered to you, would you accept a way to... leave this human world behind?"_

_The question hung in the air for a long moment; then she nodded, reaching out to take his hand - and he quickly let the fire vanish, helping her rise to her feet._

_"Might I ask your name?"_

_"Madeline," she replied. "Madeline Branford."_

_Maduin only smiled in return. "Come with me, Madeline."_

+x+x+x+

_The swordsman led her into a deep cave, so dark that he needed light a fire in his empty hand to see his way. Yet when at last they reached their destination, the cavern seemed to be consumed in a light of its own, and Maduin dismissed his flame upon deeming it unnecessary. It was as though a great void have been set into the stone, within which were placed a thousand lights - such that it resembled the night sky, set into the darkness of the cave._

_Emerging from that night sky, off the edge of the cave before the void, lay a great stone pillar, in which had been set a massive circular indentation, adorned in all manner of mystic runes - and connected to the cavern only by a wooden bridge that seemed as though it would fall apart were anyone to set foot upon it._

_Madeline could only watch, shocked. "What... what is this?" she asked, turning to the swordsman who had led her here. "Is this...?"_

_"This," Maduin prompted, "is the ultimate security. An impenetrable stone barrier, inlaid with the most powerful arcana known to the mortal plane, and connected with the most fragile of wooden walkways..."_

_At this point, he stepped to the left, and the sound of stone scraping against stone prompted Madeline to turn - whereupon she saw the swordsman shove a large boulder aside, revealing a small opening in which shadows were cast._

_"...next to an unassuming, completely ordinary boulder," Maduin finished, "behind which lies the true prize."_

_Slowly, Madeline approached the gap in the wall, curious at what he meant by 'prize' - and she was rather confused to find what seemed to be an **ordinary door**__ sitting there. When Maduin made no attempt to stop her from stepping toward it, she looked over the wooden barrier; it was not embedded in the wall, and there was nothing upon it. 'Barrier' was a generous description; it was a door sitting in the middle of **nothing**._

_"What is this supposed to be?" she asked, turning to the swordsman who had brought her here._

_Maduin bowed his head. "I can take you from this world - without taking your life - but you must promise me that you will never reveal this to anyone."_

_Wary, but set in her decision, Madeline nodded._

_"Alright..."_

_He stepped just outside, pulling the boulder he had moved back into place so that the opening was cast in complete darkness - prompting him to light one hand again. He held his other to Madeline, who hesitated just a moment before taking it again._

_"Say farewell to this world of humans..."_

_Maduin reached for the doorknob with his blazing hand._

_"...and hello..."_

_The flames seemed to **recede** from around his fingers as they neared the wood._

_"...to a world..."_

_A light danced across the doorway, and Madeline heard a faint click._

_"...of monsters."_

_The door was thrown open - and a sunset light was cast through it._

+x+x+x+

_One hour._

_With no watch on her person, nor a clock upon the wall, her only method of keeping time was to count the seconds as she sat there in seiza, with Maduin at her side, before a man with snowy white hair, pale skin, and a pair of **black, batlike wings** emerging from his back. His eyes, a blood crimson that had set horror into Madeline upon first seeing him, were now sealed, and his garb consisted of an open robe in black and a pair of dark blue leggings, leaving his chest bare._

_Silence had flooded the air when Maduin had introduced her as a human, and had lingered now for an hour. __As she began to count the seconds of the sixty-first minute, the winged man bowed his head. "Maduin, rise."_

_The swordsman was on his feet swiftly, whereupon the winged man guided him to a back room. Madeline continued to count the seconds, waiting for them to return. In less than five minutes they did so - and Madeline was silently horrified upon seeing the **sheathed katana** the winged man now wore._

_"Madeline Branford," he said firmly, his crimson gaze settling on her. "It is my understanding that you desire to no longer have anything to do with the human world. That you would accept any escape offered to you. That you would have taken your own life, if not for Maduin's intervening. Is this true?"_

_Her fears seeming confirmed, Madeline refused to let her voice carry her horror. "What you have said is true," she confirmed. "The human world is naught but a spiral of greed and vanity. If you will provide me with a way to leave that world, and never return, I will accept."_

_A heavy breath fled her lips, and she closed her eyes._

_"Regardless of what escape it is."_

_She waited to hear the scream of his blade being drawn._

_No such cry sounded._

_A light snicker prompted her to open her eyes and raise her gaze, to see the winged man standing there with his head bowed. "You are fortunate Maduin was there when you entered this place," he admitted. "Had he not brought you to me directly, you could well have been at great risk, for the beliefs of those who reside here."_

_Slowly, he drew his blade in a backhand grip and set it against the ground before her - and the tip drove itself firmly into the stone surface as his hold shifted, so that his index finger and thumb circled the handle, just against the hilt._

_"Set your hand against the pommel of this sword," the winged man prompted._

_Madeline found she could do so without affecting her seiza posture._

_"Do you swear, upon your life, that you will not leave this place willingly except in the most dire of circumstances, and that, should **ever** you leave this place, you will not breathe a word of its existence to those who are not already aware?"_

_A firm nod. "I swear."_

_The winged man shifted his grip, and Madeline released the weapon as he pulled it from the stone and slid it back into its sheath._

_"Welcome to the community of Roku Okoku - and the world of monsters."_

+x+x+x+

_The winged man was Haku Ryu, the elder of the community - and a Nosferatu who embraced the transformation his kind was granted. His demand that Madeline be left alive was unquestioned the moment it was stated, and many of the inhabitants helped her with that she was not familiar with whenever the need arose. Not that it arose often; Maduin accompanied her more often than not, providing direction and explanation should she need it. She learned the names of monsters, and she learned the people of the community; and slowly, Madeline Branford was accepted into Roku Okoku._

_At least... on the surface._

_She made no pretense of ignorance to the conversations that went on at volumes their speakers believed would not reach a human's ears. As much as she desired to fit in, she was a stranger to this community - a lone human in a world of monsters. The mutterings were rarely malevolent, merely curious and uncertain as to the safety of her presence here. Maduin's presence often helped to comfort her... but any guardian will have his limitations._

_It came to a head one day, a few years after she had come, when Madeline insisted that the yoko relax with his friends, and that she would not be doing anything more than taking an idle walk around Roku Okoku. The area was a beautiful sight - homes were little more than caves that were dug out and furnished, leaving a natural landscape unlike anything the human world had to offer - and often she would simply stroll through the community and take in the sights. At one point, she came to a stop at the edge of an expansive lake, sitting down near the shore._

_"Madeline, yes?"_

_The voice drew her gaze to the side, where she saw a young-looking girl standing all of three paces away. She was dressed rather simply - white top, white skirt - and had a small pair of white, feathered wings upon her back. "Ah, yes," Madeline responded. "Um... Sylph, correct?"_

_The girl, Sylph, nodded. Madeline had met her before - she was a siren, and younger sister of Seraph, a friend of Maduin's. Most of the monsters in Roku Okoku went only by one name - even 'Haku Ryu' was parsed as one name rather than given and family name. Maduin using the last name of 'Fuwa' was for several reasons, the most practical being that he was the main link the community had to the human world and the monsters hidden therein._

_"I heard you asked Maduin to leave you alone today," Sylph mused, taking a seat next to Madeline. "Are you starting to get used to this place?"_

_Madeline nodded, turning back to the lake. "Yes," she confirmed. "I suppose you could say that. It's truly wonderful, what you all have here."_

_Sylph nodded. "Monsters in the human world have to keep themselves hidden," she prompted. "Otherwise, humans would start doing nasty things to them. The elder's family made this place as a sort of... a place to be free."_

_"I can understand that," Madeline observed. "This place is like... a paradise. Hidden away, and kept safe."_

_"I wouldn't call it paradise," Sylph argued. "It's kind of small, when you've been here for a while. Humans have so much more, and they just... they keep it all from us."_

_Madeline bowed her head. "They keep it from their own kind, too," she admitted. "Only the most powerful or the most fortunate can experience everything in the human world. The rest are condemned to dream about that they can never have."_

_Sylph turned to her. "But what if one of the rest gets lucky?" she asked. "Or gets stronger? What happens then?"_

_"Often, their luck or strength escapes them as soon as they become comfortable with it," Madeline replied. "And if it takes hold... they simply join the ones that keep it to themselves."_

_"Don't they ever share?" Sylph asked._

_"That's something that monsters are better at," Madeline admitted. "Sharing the good things with those who don't have them."_

_Her voice had a sad edge to it, and Sylph seemed to understand she had brought up something uncomfortable. Quietly, she got to her feet. "Well, it was nice to speak with you, Madeline," she prompted._

_The human found herself lingering at the lake for a long time further - until a comforting heat approached her from behind, and she leaned her head back with a small smile. "I thought I said you could relax today," she prompted._

_"Zona talks like an inquirer if he gets an audience of one," Maduin mused from behind. "I swear his every other word has 'dark' in it somewhere."_

_Zona Seeker was a werewolf in a mask and a cape, with a voice a lot slower than anything that fast has right to speak. Madeline only chuckled at the comment, turning as the yoko took a seat beside him, and the two were quiet for a long while._

_"Sylph mentioned you seemed... displeased about something," he admitted. "She insisted it was something she said, but Seraph mentioned she has a tendency to exaggerate." He turned to her. "Were you... thinking of the human world?"_

_"I guess you could say that," Madeline admitted. "I've never known a human who's shown me the same kindness that these people have. That this **community** has." Her gaze fell to the waters. "...That you have."_

_Maduin remained quiet, turning to the waters himself._

_Madeline was the one who broke the silence. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked, turning to the yoko. "Why did you defend me from those men in the woods, that day? Why did you stop me from...?" She didn't finish - she didn't need to._

_A small smile rose on Maduin's face as he turned back to her. "Would it be horrible of me to say that I found you beautiful," he asked, "and didn't want to see that image marred?"_

_This earned him a light cuff to the shoulder that Madeline knew wouldn't hurt him._

_"To be honest," the yoko insisted, "I guess... I simply felt hopeful. Humans are numerous, and no power in a few will overcome that great a disadvantage. Monsters hide out among the crowd, or take refuge in small communities like this." When Madeline gave him a look, he admitted, "Although this **is** better than most. I was thinking that, maybe I could convince a few monsters to... not be so fearful. Take that smallest of risks, and see if we can find a better conclusion."_

_Madeline was suprised. "I never pegged you as the type to hold ambitions like that," she admitted._

_Maduin chuckled lightly. "Ambition?" he mused, laying back. "No, this is but a pipedream."_

_"You know," Madeline argued, lying back beside him, "a great change in human ways always starts off with a pipedream. It becomes something greater - and even if the dreamer never lives to see it come true, fully and completely... they die with the knowledge that things are changing."_

_There was a long quiet._

_"No."_

_The single word confused Maduin, prompting him to turn again. "No?"_

_Madeline returned the gaze. "No, it wouldn't be horrible."_

+x+x+x+

_"...Well?"_

_Kirin was a witch, one of Maduin's close friends, and praised the most perceptive resident of Roku Okoku. Without hardly lifting her wand, she could pick out the smallest of details and come to a conclusion - one that was most often correct - and though she specialized in healing matters, both arcane and mundane, she always had at the tips of her fingers a spell or two to peer deeper than the surface._

_So it came as no surprise when, confronted with Maduin and Madeline's worried gazes and less-than-tidy appearances, her only preempt was an amazed look at Madeline, and the words "I have **no idea** how you survived that."_

_It had been a year since that afternoon by the lakeside, and one could mistake the monster community for a bunch of human teenagers at the tone (and subject) their conversations of Madeline carried nowadays. The witch in white had been asked to perform a simple analytical spell on Madeline - a test that humans had more mundane means of performing, though none as effective as practiced arcana._

_And one might forgive them both, for wanting confirmation of a child._

_Kirin now held her wand (a rather simple thing, with a circular head carved of conjoined goat's horns) tightly in both hands, her eyes sealed in contemplation. Maduin and Madeline both stood with tight breath for her response - and soon enough, she raised her gaze to the two of them._

_"The conception is positive."_

_Madeline loosed a relieved sigh, closing her eyes and releasing the tension in her muscles. Maduin only smiled, bowing his head._

_"However... that may prove your undoing."_

_Maduin raised his gaze, confused. "What?" he asked. "No, wait, hold on, what are you talking about? I spoke with Golem on this, she said-"_

_Kirin's expression turning firm drew him to fall silence - as kind as she was, she could be frightening when there was a point she felt needed be made._

_"Under most circumstances," the witch admitted, "there is no harm to be brought from a child between human and monster - outdated traditions and overzealous parents notwithstanding. But a yoko is a being born of blaze. The growing child will be a flame, burning ever brighter... and could very well sear you apart from the inside."_

_Madeline's face paled, and she fell back, horrified. Maduin was in denial. "No, that can't be right," he argued. "I **specifically** asked on the topic of yoko. She said there were recorded cases-"_

_"Of a child born of a human **father**, and a yoko **mother,**" Kirin insisted. "And there are several instances of a child from a yoko father and a mother of another monster. On the rare occasions in which the child is not a monstrel, inherited traits from the mother spare her the burning pain. But a human has no such traits to inherit."_

_"No..." Madeline was starting to tear up._

_Maduin shook his head. "This isn't happening," he protested. "It can't be happening. It **can't**. Isn't there **any** way...?"_

_Kirin sighed. "I know nothing," she insisted. "You may speak with the elder, but I know nothing that might keep her safe."_

_"Then we go to speak with him," Maduin said firmly. "Madeline..."_

_"I... I'll come," Madeline forced out, getting to her feet._

_They had nearly left when Kirin's voice caught their ears._

_"That's not true..."_

_Maduin turned. "What?"_

_"It's... not true," the witch repeated. "I..." She shook her head, getting to her feet. "We still need speak with the elder, but..."_

_"Out with it," Maduin demanded._

_Kirin loosed a nervous sigh, closing her eyes._

_"I know nothing that may keep her safe... but I know of a way to let her endure it."_

_Madeline turned in time to receive the witch's gaze._

_"But... it will change you."_

+x+x+x+

_Magic is a strange and powerful thing, steeped in risk and loss._

_It had been made clear that this was what she was getting into - and so Madeline had dismissed her garb, allowed menacing patterns to be arced across her flesh, and now sat with her legs crossed, as though to meditate, with her hands upon her knees, her head bowed, and her eyes sealed. The most arcane patterns arced across the surface below her, forming a great circle that glowed, just faintly, in the darkness of night - a glow obscured only by her own body._

_Kirin stood outside the circle, to Madeline's left, her wand gripped between both hands, murmuring alternately mystic incantations and prayers to Asura._

_Maduin stood likewise on her right; his arms were crossed over his chest, his hands closed on opposite shoulders, and his eyes were closed in silent wish._

_And before her stood Haku Ryu, his wings folded behind him._

_"I ask only that you confirm once more," the elder stated. "This will bring you pain. It will change you irrevocably. You will no longer be able to consider yourself, in fullest truth, human. I cannot guarantee that we will conclude with your life intact. And even if you survive, you may very well lose what little you will gain the moment your child is born. Will you still go through with this?"_

_Madeline nodded firmly._

_"I risk only that which would inevitably happen if I were to refuse," she said firmly. "Death - not only my own, but that of my unborn child. I refuse to condemn to death that which has not yet seen life. That is all I hope to gain from this - for my child to be born. I will not back down."_

_Haku Ryu started to move forward._

_"In return," Madeline demanded, "I insist this of you. Do not fall back. No matter what screams I may sound, no matter what torment may befall the world around us, and no matter what new risks may arise... see this through to the end."_

_The words brought the elder pause; yet he only bowed his head._

_"You ask much - but no matter."_

_His wings spread behind him - and all that showed for it was the vanish of stars behind him._

_"On my blood..."_

_He raised one hand to his side - and a force of sheer magic began to gather between his fingers._

_"...you have my word."_

_Kirin's last incantation concluded, and Haku Ryu leapt into the air, soaring over the runes as a shining force rose around the edge of the circle. As he passed over Madeline, he twisted into a spin; something flew from his hands at speeds that could not be seen until it came to a stop at Madeline's shoulder, drawing her attention and prompting her to open her eyes._

_It was a needle - the tip driven into her flesh._

_She had little more than time to take notice before the flesh around the impact **rent,** like water into which a stone had been cast. Her head lashed back as the needle seemed to dissolve into her body, leaving only a gap in her skin to show for it - a gap that, when the pain subsided and she fell forward, did not bleed._

_Haku Ryu only grinned, a fang poking out over his lower lip._

_"You underestimate yourself. Making me swear that vow, despite your silence when the first of the pain comes."_

_He turned to Madeline, still hunched over from the pain._

_"Do you not feel it? The magic flowing through you? That needle is not but the sheerest arcana, woven of my power; upon contact, it unravels, its threads writhing through your body."_

_He raised both hands at his sides, fingers poised as though gripping the air._

_"They brace for the conclusion; for when your body is held completely by those mystic threads, it will be rearranged. Magic will take hold within you - arcana more than enough for you to survive your child's birth."_

_Force began to gather in the air around Madeline, forming a scattered dome from points of light._

_"But do not think the worst is over yet."_

_From each of those points emerged a sharpened tip, tremoring from the power within._

_"There still remain one hundred and eight of these needles to enter you, and thousands upon thousands of threads to brace in your flesh."_

_His words hardly registered in Madeline's ears._

_"Do you believe you can endure?"_

_Her breath was too heavy for her to respond._

_"You need not answer - now that we have begun, I will not put this to an early end."_

_She managed to rise to her former position, but her eyes were fogged, and she could make out nothing._

_"I know that your resolve will survive this ritual."_

_At last, her vision focused - and she saw the arcane points that surrounded her._

_"We shall see if your body shares that endurance."_

_The next needle connected, just above her right breast - and this time, when her flesh rent, a scream tore from her throat._

* * *

Draco: I remember when I read Rosario + Vampire Season II Chapter 40, my thought process went something like "This looks like it's supposed to be a cross between fanservice and a shounen scene, but all I've got is mental imagery reminiscent of _Daughters of Mnemosyne_. What is WRONG with me?"


	29. Illusionary

Draco: BLEGH, Type-0... actually, you know what, that pretty much sums it up.

Finally got around to playing I again. I was en route for an attempt to fight Omega, but I just cleared the thing and started again. For some reason, Shinryu is easy, but Omega just kicks my ass. Murasame is a waste of time anyways - honestly, if you're going to go out of your way to have an extra katana as a prize for a bonus boss, make it tougher than what I already have. Who's in their right mind is going to fight such a famously difficult opponent without Masamune?

Also, I HATE the Labyrinth of Time. Screw it altogether.

Also also, Sauber is an astonishingly fitting name for the other three classes. Zest, Floe, and Daewoo just _feel_ like Warrior, White Mage, and Black Mage names, but Sauber is easily applicable to a Thief, Monk, or Red Mage.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Illusionary**

_Madeline fought to open her eyes. It was an uphill struggle, but soon enough she could see the roof of a cave. A brief glance around her told her that it was Maduin's place, and slowly, she started to rise._

_"Easy, now."_

_The voice drew her to turn. Maduin was standing behind the bed, a look of relief on his face. "Maduin..." She glanced at her hands. "It... did it-"_

_"It worked," Maduin confirmed. "But you were unconscious by the end of it. Haku Ryu insisted I watch over you. You've been out for ten hours."_

_Madeline raised a hand before her, slowly curling and uncurling her fingers. "I... It's strange," she murmured. "I don't... **feel** any different."_

_Maduin sighed. "I shouldn't expect you to," he admitted. "The elder and Kirin agreed with me - it's not something you'll be able to get used to easily. Look around your neck."_

_The prompt caused Madeline to reach up, surprised to feel **something** there. Her gaze fell - it looked to be a padlock of sorts, but she could feel faint engravings along the edges. Its surface was fashioned with a cross whose lines intersected in the center, with the smallest of jewels at the core of the meet, and chains emerged from the arm - each chain marked with a likewise cross. The loop was wide enough that Madeline hadn't noticed it until Maduin had pointed it out, but closed enough that she knew it would not be removed accidentally._

_"What... what is this?" she asked, raising her gaze to Maduin._

_"Alexander's padlock," Maduin replied. "It's a sort of... sealant. Haku Ryu designed it to suppress your magic unless you call on it. When a human is infused with magic, it's volatile. If the arcana is applied at a young age, they can grow with proper control, but at adulthood - and especially with child, it could be dangerous. Unless you reach for it, it won't act."_

_Madeline nodded. "I see... Thank you."_

+x+x+x+

_"Terra..."_

_Time had passed. The arcana kept her alive, but the pregnancy still brought horrific pain - yet Madeline had endured, and now held her daughter in her arms, born just the previous day. Maduin was sitting at her side, and she held the child tight to her chest; upon the yoko's asking if she had a name in mind, Madeline had thought for a moment, and reached a decision._

_"Terra," Maduin echoed. "Yes, I... that sounds wonderful. Terra Branford."_

_Madeline turned to him, confused. "You would not call her yours?"_

_Maduin shook his head. "After you have put yourself through so much, your name is a greater honour than mine." He glanced down, curling his fingers. "An old relic of times past will do her no good." With a chuckle, he added, "Besides, it flows together so beautifully."_

_"Terra Branford," Madeline hummed. "I suppose you're right..."_

_A calm silence followed - and was shattered in an instant._

_A huge **explosion** sounded from outside the cave, and a faint tremor shook the residence, catching both of them off-guard. The tremor lasted hardly an instant, and the moment it faded Maduin was on his feet. "Stay here," he insisted._

_Madeline only nodded, holding Terra close to her._

_Maduin stormed forward, grabbing his swords from a hook near the entrance and slinging them over his back before drawing the straps tight so that they would not waver. No sooner had he stepped out of the cave than he saw a familiar siren rushing towards him._

_"Sylph!" he exclaimed, stepping forward. "What happened?"_

_"Humans," Sylph insisted. "They managed to open the link! And they broke the door so we can't seal them out! There's a whole legion of them, and they've all got guns!"_

_Maduin swore. "Have you told the elder?"_

_Sylph nodded. "Yes."_

_"Then get Golem, Phantom, and Zona," Maduin instructed, "and tell them to meet me there. I'll do what I can to hold the humans off until they arrive."_

_He started forward, and Sylph shouted at his back, "They've got a **hundred** fighters, minimum!"_

_"And **I**'ve got something to fight for," the yoko retaliated, not bothering to turn._

_The door was set into a cave - deep enough to be cast in shadows, but close enough that the sunset would still light it up if the mouth of the cave was unblocked - and that left them with two chokepoints. The cavern entrance was maybe wide enough for them to march two-by-two, but they wouldn't get through the door at any more than single file. Haku Ryu was standing at the entrance, and as Maduin arrived, the elder turned to him._

_"How's your blood held up all these years?" Maduin inquired._

_"Maduin, I've had magic since my third year of life," Haku Ryu insisted. "The blood is irrelevant - I can't face off with an army of that size."_

_"They're humans."_

_"With firearms."_

_The yoko sighed. "Then we fall back to the void?"_

_Haku Ryu bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Maduin. We don't have another choice."_

_"Just promise me you'll take of Madeline and Terra," Maduin pleaded._

_"Terra?" The elder turned to him. "You decided on a name?"_

_"It was her idea," Maduin added._

_"It's beautiful." Haku Ryu. "And **you**'re going to see she grows up alright."_

_Maduin turned. "What?"_

_A snicker from the elder. "You didn't think I was going to let you go down in some blaze of glory, did you?"_

_"Honestly, haven't they come through yet?"_

_The voice of Zona Seeker caused Maduin to turn. The werewolf was there, along with Golem - a snow fairy with a candy stick, who prided herself on trapping her body in a massive form of ice - and Phantom - a thunder beast wrapped in cloths to make himself seem spectral, silent unless absolutely necessary. At Zona's prompt, Golem only sighed, the air icing around her breath. "Human leaders think a rousing speech is going to save their troops," she recalled. "Let's kick some ass."_

_Phantom only nodded._

_Haku Ryu set a hand on Maduin's shoulder. "Just clear the way for me," he insisted. "Then do something to stop anyone else and fall back."_

_"Consider it done __yesterday__," the yoko promised._

_Golem sucked in a sharp breath as frost wrapped her hands, quickly spreading to encompass the rest of her body. In an instant, she was nearly unseen within a massive, humanoid figure of solid ice - a figure which quickly stormed forward. Phantom started walking after her at a much more gradual pace, and Zona seemed to vanish. There was only the briefest of pauses before Maduin began moving, leaving Haku Ryu standing at the entrance to the cave._

+x+x+x+

_"Riches to every man who brings me a monster's body! Luxury to any who capture a monster alive!"  
_

_Emperor Gestahl prided himself - as he did in his childhood - on **being** there when things went down, whenever he could. His every resource had gone into finding the monsters' refuge; for he was _**_certain_**_ that such powerful creatures could not blend into the human world fully and completely, so soon after a war against humankind - and so there **must** be somewhere they were gathered._

_And now, he had found it - a perfectly ordinary door, upon a very basic frame, leading nowhere._

_With that last promise to his men, they stormed forward, weapons in hand. They had decided to not risk damaging the doorframe, in case it maintained the connection to the monsters' refuge (**how** was a question that Gestahl couldn't answer, but better not to take the risk); this left them marching single-file into the small doorway with their revolvers in hand, and machine guns over their backs - unloaded, with rounds of each at their belts, to prevent being prepared with a shot that would only empower their opponent._

_It came out on a cave, and there they found their first opponent. A hulking shape of pure ice, chill mist hanging in the air around it - the surface was frosted over, preventing anything that might have been within or behind it from being seen. The first man glanced over his shoulder to see all of three men had made it through behind him; he quickly popped the chamber of his revolver and grabbed a round, shouting, "Ifrit!"_

_The moment the bullet was in place, he raised his revolver at the icy creature and fired._

_Someone got in the way - a man with green hair, a pair of swords on his back - and the bullet connected with the shoulders, bursting into fierce flames on contact. He yelped as he landed, the touch to the earth possessing slightly more spin than would have been preferable - but when his hand went to the impact, there was a bullet wound - and **nothing** to show it had been burned._

_"Damn, that's actually a bullet on there!"_

_The man on point stepped back. "What the...?"_

_Maduin groaned, reaching around the damaged flesh - there didn't seem to be any bullet casing to show for it, implying the bullet had been vaporised in the detonation. Just to be sure, he let flames storm around the shoulder as he turned to the man who had fired. "Don't call it Ifrit if you've got steel with the fire!"_

_A fierce swearing emerged as another man stepped around the leader, raising his revolver at Golem's head - or rather, the head of her icy casing. "Ramuh!" he roared to the men._

_Another shot flew - and this one, too, was interrupted. Phantom had stepped into place behind the swordsman without anyone hearing or seeing him until he had a hand raised to block the bullet. The impact dragged his hand back, and the voltage that danced around the impact point did little more than cause his cloths to waver as he turned to Maduin._

_The yoko raised an eyebrow. "Did you not hear me shout, 'that's actually a bullet on there', or did you just think I was exaggerating?"_

_Phantom only rolled his eyes - hardly visible under his cloths - before stepping around and raising a hand towards the men. A surge of voltage slammed into the man furthest ahead; then the lightning leapt between the soldiers, throwing their bodies into voltic fits before they slumped to the ground, lifeless. Someone tried to fire at them as they approached, but Maduin only countered with a shot of fire that triggered the bullet - which tried to burst into ice, although the result was more akin to water falling - and proceeded to melt the barrel of the gun that had fired it **and** singe the hand holding that gun._

_Another man stepped forward, just out the door; his revolver was loaded, and he quickly fired, prompting Maduin to blast this shot as well._

_He, Phantom, and Golem all stepped back when his flames, upon striking the bullet, **dissipated** into the air, leaving no trace he had ever attacked._

_The man grinned. "Screw strategy! Bahamut!"_

_Everyone started loading, and Golem stormed forward, hoping to strike them down before they could fire. The first man to fire that effective shot, however, only holstered his revolver and pulled a machine gun off his back, firing a short burst at Golem's feet. The shots shattered the legs of her casing, causing her to slide just through the door, and another man quickly fired at her main body - this was a flaming shot, melting her protection and singing the shoulder blades of the snow fairy within. Someone else fired at her arm - voltage pumped across her body, leaving her unconscious._

_A blur shot out the door, and the man who had cried Bahamut quickly found himself kicked between the legs, elbowed in the nose, and his machine gun pulled from his hands and thrown across the cave - all in about two seconds. Three men proceeded to raise machine guns of their own at the masked figure standing there, loading and firing as the first firer fell to the ground - he managed to dodge most of the volley with his body, but his cape was in shreds by the time he was done - and the last shot managed to strike his leg, the voltage paralyzing him as it had Golem._

_Phantom had made it out while this occurred, a blast of lightning from an outstretched hand leaping between the three men as Zona Seeker fell to the ground; someone else proceeded to fire at him, however, and though he volted the bullet, the ensuing clump of ice struck him in the face before he could react. Another shot promptly connected with his leg, freezing him to the ground; further shots slammed into his arms and legs, leaving him frozen in a block of ice by the time they were done._

_Maduin was hidden in an outcrop and swearing under his breath - these people were versatile, and those 'Bahamut' attacks were dangerous. If Haku Ryu was as weakened as he claimed, there was no way he was going to survive long enough to pull this off. Upon hearing the next few men stepping through the door, he threw himself in the way, spreading his hands as though he would shield someone behind him._

_The men laughed. "What're you gonna do?" one taunted. "Bring down the whole cave?"_

_"If I have to," Maduin confirmed._

_Their smiles faded._

_The yoko gave his own. "But I doubt I'll have to."_

_His lands lashed forward, and a wall of flame surged up before him, causing the men to stumble back. Maduin quickly drew his swords and stormed forward; the moment he could see the soldiers, he drove his blades through two of them and dragged them to the ground like a pirate trained to kill. As the others rounded on him, he released the weapons; this freed his hands to blast waves of fire across the attackers, setting their flesh alight._

_One sword was raised before him, so he was peering down the blade._

_The other was raised at his side, at an angle just heavenward._

_"Now, showtime."_

_The next man to step into view was greeted with a kick that sent him flying like a meteor - complete with flaming trail. Machine guns were rounded on him, and he lashed his swords to catch the first few bullets, expecting the attacks to tear his swords apart. He was pleasantly surprised to find the attacks only wrapped his swords in ice; he quickly moved the weapons to beat the hail of icy attacks aside, each new frost shattering from the bullet that sprouted the next. Blows across the hearts left the soldiers lifeless on the ground the moment their firearms were empty, and the man who survived long enough to pry the empty clip only received strikes to the wrists before he could reload; this left Maduin's arm's crossed, which he quickly remedied by bringing both blades across the gunner's throat._

_The click of a touched trigger warned him that a soldier had a revolver raised at his head. "Drop the swords."_

_Maduin released his blades; the second they hit the ground, his hand went up, grabbing the gun and causing it to fire at the ceiling. He quickly switched it to his other hand as he arced into an away spin, slamming the butt of the firearm into its owner's temple; he quickly tossed the weapon away as he kicked one sword and then the other back to his hands._

_Another shot was fired._

_His attempt to deflect it sent voltage racing across his blade and into his hand, causing him to drop the weapon - and leaving him off-guard for the attack that slammed into his leg._

_He was unconscious before his other sword had gone still on the earth._

+x+x+x+

_"Everyone take refuge!"_

_Haku Ryu's voice echoed through the air, raising Madeline's gaze. Terra began to cry out in her arms, but she quickly drew the child close, shushing it - and trying not to let her growing fear show in her voice. __It wasn't long before someone stepped into Maduin's cave, and Madeline recognized the white wings and blue dress in the corner of her vision. "Seraph, what's going on?"_

_"Humans," Seraph warned. "Human soldiers. They've got firearms that aren't normal - they already took Maduin prisoner!"_

_Militant stomping drew the siren to turn around, seeing someone with a machine gun step inside, aiming it around. He froze for a moment at the sight of the woman with white-feathered wings; that was long enough for Seraph to lash an arm and a wing forward, throwing razor-sharp feathers forward that impaled the gun in both lungs, the heart, the throat, and the skull. His strangled gasp caused Terra to cry again, but Madeline did her best to quiet her._

_"Seraph, go," she insisted. "You need to take cover."_

_"But you-!"_

_"Even the worst of humans won't kill a newborn if they have the resources to take her hostage," Madeline insisted. "Go!"_

_Seraph started to turn away, only to run head-first into a soldier. The soldier reacted first; a revolver fired at her foot, and voltage lashed across Seraph's body. Her last note before she fell to unconsciousness was not a scream of pain, but a single note - one that did wonders to quiet the child in Madeline's arms; when the siren fell to the ground, the soldier noticed Madeline lying in the bed._

_The human woman swallowed heavily. "I'll come quietly," she promised, "as long as you don't hurt my daughter."_

_It took a moment for the man to decide; then he stepped forward, holstering his weapon. "Can you walk?"_

_"Possibly..."_

Madeline?

_The elder's voice came from nowhere - she raised her gaze, concerned. To her fortune, a gunshot had sounded dangerously close to the cave; the soldier shook his head. "Don't worry. If I tell them you're coming with me, they won't harm you."_

_"I..."_

Don't try to talk to me. The soldier can't hear me._ Haku Ryu's voice echoed in her mind, sourceless._ Listen carefully. We're trying to fall back to the void. It's a failsafe that'll prevent anyone from entering or exiting Roku Okoku. But we need someone to trigger it on both ends._ The soldier helped her to her feet, but she hardly paid him any attention; whatever focus was not on the elder's words was on Terra in her arms._ Kirin is going to come with you. Once she's on the outside of the door, she's going to disrupt the soldiers and start the process out there, while I begin it in here. Maduin should be conscious by the time you get out there; you and he come in the **moment** Kirin begins.

_Madeline did not respond, only allowing the soldier to lead her back towards the doorway - someone had already come and taken Seraph away. Sure enough, Kirin was running towards them; when the soldier went for his revolver, she quickly raised her hands in surrender. "Please, don't!" she cried. "I'm not going to hurt anyone! I just want to make sure the baby is safe!"  
_

_"You're... a midwife?" the soldier asked, incredulous._

_"Something like that," Kirin insisted. "Please, just let me help her!"_

_The soldier kept his eye on the witch as she put an arm around Madeline, supporting her - she still was not very steady on her feet. "Is she alright?" she asked the human woman._

_"Yes," Madeline confirmed, not daring to speak of Haku Ryu's words. "So far, yes. She's fine."_

_The four of them - mother, child, witch, and soldier - made their way through the cave. The door linking Roku Okoku to the outside world was in pieces - although the doorframe was intact - and Madeline was horrified at what she saw. Phantom was **encased in ice**; Golem, Zona, and Seraph were all unconscious and twitching with electricity; Maduin was struggling to supporting himself with his hands, with a soldier on either side holding a firearm to his head. The moment Madeline stepped out of the door, Maduin tried to move; he ended up falling over, his body still weak._

_"M-Madeline..."_

_Kirin helped Madeline approach the fallen yoko; the human woman knelt down next to him, still holding Terra tight to her. "Maduin," she murmured. "Are you alright?"_

_"Never... mind me..." he gasped. "Terra..."_

_"Terra is right here," Madeline insisted. "Don't worry."_

_The soldier who had escorted them looked between the two. "Is he the father?" he inquired._

_Kirin nodded._

_The gunners on either side quickly holstered their weapons as Maduin struggled to rise. He managed to get to one knee, carefully putting his arms around Madeline so as to not harm Terra. Kirin sighed in relief, setting one hand on her chest. "I was afraid you would be in a... less favourable state."_

_Maduin shook his head. "It'll take more than that to take me down."_

_Something beneath the witch's garb began to glow._

_"Good."_

_The yoko drew Madeline close, covering Terra with her mother's garb as a light flashed across everyone present. The soldiers all stumbled back, and the unconscious monsters woke; Seraph took in the situation, saw the child was protected, and knew what they wanted her to do. Her mouth opened, and a single note echoed through the air - the soldiers dropped their weapons, covering their ears in pain, and even Madeline bowed her head from the discomfort caused by a note pitched so as to target human ears._

_Kirin quickly drew her wand from between her breasts, grasping it in both hands and holding it towards the doorway - and magic began to gather around the frame, a darkness gathering around it. Maduin did not hesitate; supporting Madeline with his own body, he started towards the join, understanding already that they needed to get through before the connection was shattered._

_It was then that someone stepped out of the shadows._

_A man in ornate, all-consuming robes, with an aged face and hair gone grey of age, and a handgun in his grip, levelled on Madeline's head._

_The two parents came to a stop, Madeline keeping Terra close to her chest, and Maduin putting an arm before her. The man paused for the briefest of moments; then he smirked, lowering his handgun so that it was aimed at the child. Both of them went still as he stepped forward._

_"Give me the child."_

_Madeline shook her head. "No," she protested. "I won't let you take her."_

_The man took a single step forward, and the parents both stepped back. "Give her to me, or I will kill her now."_

_Maduin glared, briefly; then a light crossed his body, arcane patterns shining across his bare flesh._

_An attempt to pull the trigger only clicked ineffectively, the firearm jammed; Maduin quickly reached forward, his hand lighting up with heat as he contorted the barrel in his blazing palm. A swift cross to the jaw - unflamed, due to his proximity to the child - sent the man tumbling to the ground, and he quickly turned so that he stood between the opponent and Terra, pulling her out._

_Madeline was horrified to see Terra was starting to writhe - and something was **glowing** upon her. "What-?"_

_"I'm sorry," Maduin insisted. "I had to stop him. She must have received the magic you did when you underwent Haku Ryu's ritual. It's a miracle if you still have any. Hers is starting to react to being so close to mine..."_

_He was supporting Terra with his hands, which meant Madeline's could spare one to reach for her neck. "The lock," she insisted. "Alexander's padlock. Could it contain it?"_

_"It only needs to be quieted," Maduin insisted. "The lock can do that, but you-"_

_"But **nothing**," Madline insisted, setting both hands to support Terra. "Do it."_

_Maduin quickly reached forward, grasping the padlock with one hand. One link connected to it fell away, and he quickly drew the chain off from around Madeline's neck. Quickly, he circled Terra and her bundle of blankets with the chain - loosely enough that it would not apply pressure, but tightly enough that it would not slide off; then he set the freed link against the loop of the lock, causing it to seal on. The glow around Terra quieted, and he quickly set his arms around mother and child - for **Madeline** was now beginning to glow, patterns not unlike Maduin's own beginning to shine beneath her garb._

_A gunshot sounded._

_Kirin's scream drew Madeline's attention; the shot had connected with the witch's thigh, and ice was beginning to cross her body. Maduin turned to see the man in the robes was on one knee; the melted-barrelled handgun was on the floor before him, but another was in his hand, raised towards the witch._

_Maduin kicked the firearm away with a burst of fire._

_Madeline's footsteps stopped him from doing the same to the man himself; he turned to see the human woman stepping toward Kirin, with Terra still in her arms._

_"No, Madeline!"_

_The words fell on deaf ears. Kirin was struggling to maintain her magic, even Madeline could see that; quickly, she took the wand from Kirin's hand and set the child into her arms. The magic had begun in the witch herself, but the wand was now what acted as the link to the arcana; now, Madeline turned to the doorway, raising the wand - and seeing Haku Ryu behind it, arcana lighting up upon **him** as well._

_She started towards the door, with Kirin's wand outstretched - and was surprised when Maduin stepped up to her._

_"Madeline, don't!" he demanded. "Your magic is too unstable, it could kill you!"_

_"This needs to be done..." Madeline protested._

_"**I** can do it!" Maduin insisted. "Let me-"_

_He was silenced when another gunshot sounded; this bullet slammed into his leg, and voltage ripped up about him as he fell to the side. Madeline saw the man in the robes stepping forward, with his handgun raised. Turning back to the doorway, she saw Haku Ryu standing there; and after a brief moment, the elder only nodded._

_She released the wand._

_The magic condensed upon the doorway, the image of Roku Okoku vanishing._

_Madeline quickly turned to face the man in the robes, the magic she held now running wild - and as the robed man pulled his trigger, she so desperately wanted it all to **harm him**._

_Terra's cry caught her ears, and reminded her of how close her child still was._

_She could not trust the arcana to bring this man harm without doing the same to her child; and so she only closed her eyes, willing the magic to recede as the gunshot sounded, and a bullet struck her heart - and flames ripped up around it._

_The last thing in her ears was Maduin's voice, screaming her name._

* * *

Draco: Ungaaah. That all came out a lot more cruel than I meant it to be. I feel like an ass.


	30. Full Speed Ahead

Draco: Etro, Type-0 has thrown me so far out of my groove. I've got inspiration for K+C Season II, a desire to make the most _unaltered_ literation (novelization, whatever) I possibly can, and half the scripting for a 14v14 _Epic Rap Battle of History_, but it's taken me _forever_ to get back **here**. Then, when I managed to make Type-0 subside, I turned on Tales of Symphonia to see if that would give me inspiration, only to get locked into _that_. And this _despite_ the fact that I've been listening to the OverClocked album I named this fic after. _Etro_.

Also, during the periods in which home console gaming has not been an option (had a couple minor power outages), I've been playing Pokémon _Platinum_ Version, following exploitation of the _original_ Pokémon Ranger to land me a Manaphy egg, and just recently took my entire team at level 50 to _Pok__étopia_ (yes, I raised a full team to level 50 with a pre-Kalosian Exp. Share, although I am using the Oblivia event Shaymin and Heatran - and that does leave me with the problem of 'six Pokémon that needed to be balanced and I'm at Victory Road'). Consequently, I am suffering from some very outdated inspiration - which I have managed to _justify_, should it ever come to fruition. Alpha, had I one wish to be granted, 'twould be to enable all Generation IV events once again. Sinnoh and the Sea Princess shall ever hold a precious place in my heart. I'm still pissed I lost my Aura Sphere Riolu but remembered my Almia Darkrai the first time I ever did a trade-save for resets.

Oh, and, if I'm not the only one still in Sinnoh... well, I'll not say 'Fight me', but only because Nintendo Wi-Fi Connection has been down _almost_ since the 3DS came out. Forest, Cobble, Relic, Forest, Cobble, Relic, Forest, Cobble, Relic, Forest, Cobble, Forest, Coal, Forest, Cobble, Mine. Forest, Cobble, Relic, Forest, Cobble, Relic, Forest, Cobble, Icicle, Beacon, Icicle, Mine, Cobble, Forest, Cobble, Relic. You may require the Bulbapedia article on 'Badge'.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Full Speed Ahead**

There it was again - that sensation that felt strange to describe. The feeling that her mind was on fire. This time, she managed to fight through the pain and open her eyes without outside provocation; it was that room in the high building of Zozo, where she had woken when everyone came to find her. The others were around her again - Locke, Edgar, Sabin, Cyan, and Gau, as well as with Setzer - along with another. One of the prisoners of Vector.

The one whose memories she was waking from.

"F... Father...?"

Maduin nodded. "Terra."

The dancer rose to a sitting position, setting one hand upon her head. "I... You..."

Cyan spoke up at this point. "Maduin explained everything," he insisted. "We understand... what thou hast been through."

Terra raised her hand before her. "Then, the lightning... the ice..."

"Magic," Maduin confirmed. "A relic of the Sixth Kingdom."

"The Sixth Kingdom," Edgar echoed. Turning to the yoko; "Valigarmanda spoke of this. What is the Sixth Kingdom?"

The name caught Maduin's attention, and he turned towards the Figaro king. "Wait, Valigarmanda?" he demanded. "The siren of Tri-Disaster?"

"He was frozen in flaming ice, and buried in the Narshean mines," Sabin explained. "Terra freed him with fire, and it triggered..." He scoffed. "A transformation. He led us here, while she was parted from us."

"I would never have imagined," Maduin exclaimed.

"Then, thou dost know of this 'Sixth Kingdom', then?" Cyan prompted.

Setzer shook his head. "Hold on, I'm confused," he insisted. "What's this about... a transformation?"

Gau turned to him. "Terra get hurt by Villa... Vari... Viga..." He shook his head. "Big siren, wings three colors. Ice on fire. Hurt Terra, Terra go on fire. Pink fire, white middle. Terra fly here." He paused. "No, Terra fly _near_ here, and here when we walk here."

"From _Narshe_?" Setzer exclaimed.

The wild child angled his hand from side to side.

"Anyways," Sabin insisted, drawing Maduin's attention again, "Valigarmanda. You know him?"

"Of him," Maduin corrected. "As part of the Sixth Kingdom."

"What _is_ the Sixth Kingdom?" Edgar demanded.

Maduin sighed, thinking of how to go about this. "You are all familiar with Feymarch, yes?"

"More than thou wouldst likely believe," Cyan admitted.

The yoko chuckled. "Oh, we'll see about that," he countered. "In any case, the Steel-Reaving Sword of Feymarch, Odin, is said to have seen six kingdoms rise upon the mortal plane. How much of that is truly his work, and how much is simply praise upon the actual king of each kingdom, is uncertain - but the kingdoms themselves exist. Of this, I am certain.

"Each kingdom was unique, in some way or another. The Sixth Kingdom had its warriors undergo a trial by resolve. Nine and one hundred needles of pure arcane power were plunged into their flesh, such that their bodies would be rearranged and allow them control of arcane forces, on their own. Certain warriors of the Sixth Kingdom became famous for how they used their magic - Valigarmanda was known as the Tri-Disaster, for his songs would carry flame, frost, and thunder that would raze his opponents."

Here, Maduin held out his hand, and arcane patterns lit up across his flesh. "Each member of my family down the generations underwent the Sixth Kingdom's trial of one-oh-nine needles, to strengthen us. Madeline endured the same thing, so as to endure her pregnancy would not kill her - and when Terra was born, she received enchantment as well."

Terra held her hand before her, and a faint light rose up around it.

"Being raised in Gestahlian enslavement would have suppressed your monstrous form," Maduin offered, "and a human mother prevented it from rising unwillingly as you grew. Valigarmanda's magic must have reacted with your own, which would have spurred the transformation."

"Then, that pink fire..." Cyan began.

Maduin nodded. "Yes. Undergoing the transformation for the first time amidst a surge of arcana would have permanently affected the form. She won't be able to use it without her magic anymore - and that means there is a great deal of risk involved."

Locke had been quiet up to this point; now, he stepped forward. "You sound pretty sure of all this," he mused.

The warrior shrugged. "This is not the first time that a yoko, having been born to a mother who has undergone the Sixth Kingdom's trial, has loosed their form for the first time at once with their arcana," Maduin admitted.

Setzer sighed, glancing around at everyone. "So?" he mused. "What happens now?"

The treasure hunter turned to him. "What?" he asked. "You're coming with?"

His exclamation only prompted Setzer to laugh. "Are you kidding?" he exclaimed. "This is the most fun I've had in ages! I'll be damned if I let you take off without me." He poised the fingers of one hand as though preparing to flip a coin; the flick actually knocked a small disc tumbling into the air, and he caught it with a sideswipe before raising it between middle and index, revealing a jet-black thousand-dollar casino token.

"My life is a chip in your pile."

Terra pulled herself off the bed. The Feymarch swords they had taken from Vector were lying next to the bed, and she picked them up, slipping the Icebrand and Thunderblade over her shoulders before hooking the Flametongue on her hip. "First things first, then," she insisted. "We go get Celes."

"_What_?" Locke demanded, turning to her. "Are you kidding?"

"Should I be?" Terra countered.

Locke shook his head. "Even setting aside the fact that she _turned_ on us-!"

"Hold on," Maduin insisted. "What are you talking about?"

The treasure hunter gave him a look "What am I...!? You _said_-!"

Maduin's expression looked like he had realized his words for the first time. "_Bahamut_," he muttered. "My mistake. When I said she had stayed behind, I didn't mean as _their_ ally. I meant she was going to see that man in the clown makeup to Pandaemonium."

"Oh." Locke was struck silent for a moment.

"You had something else to add to that?" Setzer pointed out.

Locke shook his head. "Uh, right," he insisted. "We broke into their laboratory and raised hell. Their security is going to be way too tight. And furthermore," he added, turning to the gambler, "I am not getting on that _dice game_ you call an airship until you can tell me it'll stay airborne."

"It _will_ stay airborne," Setzer protested.

"Now say it like you mean it," Locke countered.

Setzer opened his mouth to protest again, but no sound came out before he closed it again, sheepish.

The treasure hunter sighed, glancing around at the others. "We'd best head to Narshe. Banon will know the best course of action from here on out. Let's head to Castle Figaro."

"I am _not_ leaving the _Blackjack_ parked outside _Zozo_ during a trip to _Narshe_," Setzer protested.

Maduin spoke up at this point. "We're too many to travel on foot for great distance," he insisted. "We're better off with most of us riding in the airship."

Edgar nodded. "I'll head to the Castle. We're better off having it in the Figaro Desert anyways." Turning to Cyan, he added, "I'd like you to come with me, if you don't mind."

The samurai was caught off-guard by that. "Me?"

"You," Edgar confirmed. "I have something you'll want to look at."

"I'll go with them," Locke confirmed.

Gau cheered in agreement.

Sabin sighed. "I'll take the airship."

"Likewise," Maduin agreed.

"I'll come too," Terra added.

"And I need to pilot the damn thing," Setzer observed. Turning to Maduin; "The others are still on board, correct?"

Maduin nodded. "Yes, they were all still drowsy from that sedative in the cham..." He trailed off, his eyes wide. "Oh, Leviath."

Setzer angled his head. "Something wrong?"

"You... Don't have alcohol in that airship, do you?"

+x+x+x+

"I am _never ever ever _**ever** leaving guests on this ship unguarded again. Like, **_ever_**."

Maduin only sighed at Setzer's rant. The gambler was at the _Blackjack_'s helm, as Maduin had decided to stay on deck. "It's not your fault," he insisted. "Kirin is the only one who's usually that bad with liquor; whatever was in that gas must have weakened us."

"A witch is still the last one I want intoxicated," Setzer argued. "Wand or no wand, drunk magic can only bring trouble. And what the hell was Phantom doing?"

"I didn't even know he could talk like that," Maduin admitted. "He rarely talks at all."

"At least Golem was easy to clean up," Setzer sighed. A moment's pause; "We're coming up on Narshe," he observed. "You want to come with us?"

The yoko shook his head. "I'll stay here, thank you," he insisted. "I can make sure they don't do anything further detrimental." He was quiet for a moment, pondering. "This Banon, could you bring him on board? I feel that may be safer than going into the city."

Setzer shrugged in uncertainty. "I've not actually met him," he admitted. "We'll see."

He promptly landed the ship just south of Narshe, leaving Maduin to tend to the intoxicated and taking Sabin and Terra down the boarding plank. They found Locke, Edgar, Cyan, and Gau at the entrance to the city.

"What took you so long?" Edgar inquired.

"Drunken Feymarch," Setzer replied.

Sabin was quick to notice something _different_ in Cyan's hand. "Is that a new katana?" he inquired.

"Wakizashi, in truth," Cyan corrected, baring the blade just slightly. "And further, of better make than mine kodachi."

This earned Edgar a raised eyebrow from the monk.

The king only shrugged. "I've been experimenting with different types of swords," he admitted. "As it turns out, I am far too fond of spear-play to use anything incapable of thrusting - for an extended period of time, anyway."

"And yet you carry a _chainsaw_," Locke reprimanded.

"I can thrust with a chainsaw!" Edgar protested.

"Thou _must_ demonstrate at some point," Cyan insisted incredulously.

Terra coughed lightly, drawing everyone's attention. "We were here for a reason?" she prompted.

"Right," Locke mused. "Banon's waiting at Arvis' place. I've already given him the report."

Sabin sighed. "'Report' might be a bit strong..."

+x+x+x+

Banon was indeed there when they arrived at Arvis' home. Arvis himself had a cup of cocoa and a blue tinge to his skin that told them he had been outside for an extended period.

Edgar's expression turned concerned. "Tell me you _weren't_..."

Arvis nodded. "We went looking for Valigarmanda," he confirmed. "We didn't much like what we found."

Sabin winced. "_Shiva_," he muttered.

"Something like that," Arvis confirmed, getting to his feet. Facing Terra, he mused, "Good to see you back."

Terra nodded. "Good to be back," she admitted.

Banon stepped forward. "Locke briefed me on what happened on Vector," he confirmed. "Are the Gestahlian prisoners with you?"

"They're waiting on board the ship," Setzer confirmed, "though only one is in any condition to speak with you."

"I see," Banon observed, turning to him. "And you are?"

The gambler beckoned to the card-suit pins on his jacket. "Setzer Gabbiani, pilot of the _Blackjack_, which is currently at the whim of the... Returners, I believe? In any case," he continued, "it was requested that you meet him on board - largely because of his reason for being there."

"You carry a liquor storage on your airship?" Arvis inquired.

"I don't see how in the _world_ you came to that conclusion," Setzer reprimanded. "Also, yes."

Banon nodded. "Very well," he mused. "I'll come meet him. Arvis," he added, "once you're warmed up, check on the preparations."

Setzer was caught off-guard by that. "Preparations?" he inquired.

"Last time Kefka Palazzo was in Narshe," Arvis explained, "he made it abundantly clear that being neutral wasn't going to save us from his insanity."

"Ouch."

+x+x+x+

Locke elected to guard the boarding plank as the others made their way on board. Phantom, Golem, Zona, Kirin, and Seraph were all taking refuge in the 'escape entry' to recover; Maduin was seated in the casino's lounge. He quickly got to his feet upon seeing Banon, Setzer, and Terra approach; and upon sighting the yoko, Banon glanced between him and Terra before asking, "Wait, are you-?"

Maduin set one hand over his chest and bowed lightly. "Maduin Fuwa, of Roku Okoku - and Terra's father," he confirmed. "You would be Banon?"

"I would at that," the Returner confirmed. "This... Roku Okoku you speak of..."

"A community of monsters," Maduin explained. "The six of us here, who were prisoners of the Empire, were inhabitants of that community - but we six, and Terra, were the only prisoners they took."

"I see," Banon mused. A moment of quiet. "Tell me; would they be willing to fight against the Gestahlian forces, were we to ask them?"

Terra interrupted at this point. "That's not possible," she insisted. "The village - or, I think it's a village - but it's sealed off. Ever since the Empire tried to attack it the first time. They fell back to the void. There's no way to get in or out."

Maduin smirked. "At least... that's the official story."

The dancer was caught off-guard for a moment. "Father... what are you saying?"

In response, Maduin held out his hand, his magic patterns lighting up again. "The great stone barrier near the entrance largely serves as distraction, so as to mask the presence of the doorway. However, the elder designed a way that, if we ever fell back to the void, it would act as a sealed gate between the human world and Roku Okoku." He sighed, the light fading as he lowered his hand. "Whether they would be willing to help us, however... is another story altogether."

"Their Feymarch weapons," Terra realized.

"Exactly," Maduin confirmed. "They wanted us alive, during that first attack - that's the only reason we still are. If they choose to use their Bahamut weapons again, we won't stand a chance."

Banon sighed heavily. "Even if they refuse to aid us," he insisted, "would there be any harm in asking?"

"Yes," Maduin countered, "there would."

The Returner leader gave him a confused look at that.

Terra was the one who spoke up. "When the entrance was a doorway, Gestahl's army found a way to invoke its entry. That shouldn't have been able to happen. It..." Her gaze fell, and her brow furrowed in thought. "It... I'm not sure on the specifics, but it shouldn't have let a human in. Not without a monster who was willing to help them."

"And yet, he managed to open the way regardless," Banon observed.

"The sealed gate _is_ more secure," Maduin admitted. "The doorway simply required monstrous presence; the stone barrier can only be opened via two arcane forces on either side. But if the Empire becomes aware that it can be opened, there's the risk that they'll find a way _to_ open it."

Setzer coughed lightly, drawing their attention. "Even assuming the dubious possibility of the Empire figuring out that complex a seal, and the _more_ dubious possibility that they _have_ two spellcasters, and the _most_ dubious possibility that they'll be _powerful_ enough to open up this void of yours... is anybody in your little village of magic really going to provide the arcane force on that end, if the Gestahlian army is anywhere near?"

Father, daughter, and Returner fell quiet. They they exchanged glances. Then Maduin sighed, a grin rising on his face as he turned to Setzer. "You know," he mused, "there's truth to that."

"Excellent," Setzer insisted. "Then give me a heading, and cut your cards. We're going to Roku Okoku."

* * *

Draco: Either I need to be WAY more careful with my notes, or I _really_ **hate** games with relationship values.


	31. Evisceration

Draco: Good Goddess Martel, I've got to get out of this funk.

Maybe I should have thought this playlist through a little better. I'm running out of appropriately-named songs for the situations that keep happening.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Evisceration**

"You're as stubborn as ever, you know that?"

Celes' attempt to finish off Kefka had not gone well. Her attempts to attack him while downed had revealed that he had already managed to retreat further into the facility; by the time she had caught up, the clown had set off the alarms to rouse everyone in the palace. Managing to flee Vector by the skin of her teeth had revealed the Blackjack to have already vanished with Locke, Terra, and the captives.

So here she was, her second day as a prisoner of the Gestahlian Empire.

_Again_.

Meals had been brought to her, but she hadn't touched a single one of them. The soldier walking into her cell now had her dinner in hand, setting it on the floor next to her bed and picking up the now-cold lunch that had been delivered earlier. At the man's comment, Celes only raised an eyebrow, sparing only the corner of her gaze to look at him. "When have I ever been so stubborn before?" she demanded.

"Reports say you didn't eat anything at Figaro, either," the soldier replied.

Not another word passed between them; he stepped out of the cell, closing the door behind him and locking it tightly.

Celes sighed, raising her hands before her. They had shackled her wrists together, but made the (understandable) mistake of keeping her hands in front of her; as such, it was a simple matter to keep herself hydrated without touching her rations simply by forming ice across her thumb, breaking off a piece with her teeth, and letting it melt in her mouth. Lack of food was another matter entirely, but a former general knew how to endure something so minor as hunger.

They had confiscated her sword and armour again, although this time she had been adorned in a simple robe of sorts, in pale grey. The garb was enough to restrict her movement; in combination with the shackles, she would be quite handicapped if she were to try fighting in this state. Emperor Gestahl certainly knew how to go about imprisonment - were her hands restricted, Celes wouldn't have stood a chance.

As it was, her hands were unbound, and she stood a quite decent chance.

She had been timing the arrival of her meals, the change of shifts at the door, and the footsteps of those on patrol ever since her imprisonment had begun. Already she could tell the imperial guard was a well-oiled machine to the extent that it was a vulnerability. The water brought to her was always scalding hot when it arrived - to make sure it could not be frozen - alas, that was not enough to stop her. Now, she pulled herself off of her bed, formed ice around one finger, and set it into the heated drink. The ice melted in an instant, but already was the heat fading with a suddenness that could only happen with an abominable snowgirl.

Or such a ghoul.

In a moment was the water cool enough that she could coat the surface in frost. Quickly, she picked up the glass, dripping a small amount onto her shackles and then onto her robe before turning and lashing the contents against the gap between door and frame.

The temperature of the room dropped fifteen degrees.

Her shackles broke themselves open.

The bottom half of her robe ripped itself off, providing her with enough mobility to fight freely.

Ice formed in the gap between the frame, shattering the bolt of the lock and forcing the door open.

The guard standing there turned around in time to get a blade of ice through his heart.

Celes grinned. "Sorry," she reprimanded.

No sooner had she stepped out of the cell than an alarm started blaring; with a roll of her eyes, Celes realized they had a sensor on the doorframe. She quickly snapped the icy blade off its base and pulled it out of the soldier's heart, taking off down the hallway as the ice expanded to form a proper sword. They had blindfolded her during the escort to her cell, but to no avail; she had escorted more than one prisoner to this area during her time in the Empire.

The problem would be finding her equipment.

She had just left escaped the prison area and was en route to the nearest supply room when she found herself confronted by a squadron of soldiers. Pulling a random door open and closing it behind her meant the barrage of Ifrit rounds flew past her harmlessly; when they broke the door open, Celes was already there to cut a few throats, freezing the spraying blood and using it to slay the others.

"They couldn't make it easier if they _tried_," the Lady of the Frost mused.

The _click_ of a handgun took the smile off her face, and she turned to see a soldier standing behind the table of what looked to be a break room.

"Damn you, Traitor Chere," the soldier snapped.

This only prompted a sigh from the former general, who closed the door again and raised her makeshift sword. The notion caused the man to scoff, the corner of his mouth rising in a disappointed smirk, and he opened his mouth to reprimand her.

"I know what you're thinking," Celes interrupted. "You don't believe I stand a chance. You figure using a sword puts me at a disadvantage. You're wondering why I would choose to use a blade in a world of guns."

Her words caught the soldier off-guard.

Celes set one hand against the flat of her weapon. "You see," she explained, "a blade allows... empathy. A sword, a knife, an axe, a spear... you can feel each blow against the opponent. You can feel the strikes bringing them closer and closer to death. And when you take a life with a blade, you can feel the soul leaving your foe. Even a _bow_ allows it, to some degree; if you're smart enough to recover an arrow once it has struck its target, you can feel the emptiness - the lack of spirit within the body of the one you just killed. And if you fight with empty hands, the contact of flesh against flesh lets you feel it weakening - the hold a soul has on its body."

Here she raised her ice blade to the soldier, who shifted his grip on his weapon nervously.

"A firearm doesn't do that," she reprimanded. "The powder separates the round from the one who fires it. And a spent bullet is of no use to anyone. So you never feel it. You never understand the weight of taking a life - of severing a spirit from the flesh. But each death stays with you."

Here she stepped forward. "And a soldier like you, surely, must have brought many upon many deaths. So tell me, cadet - what happens when you finally take a life with a blade? Or worse - when you are forced to take a life with your bare hands?"

The soldier was visibly trembling as she spoke, his aim unsteady.

"It overcomes you. It shatters you. And you will never be able to pick up a weapon again."

His support hand reached up, wiping the nervous sweat from his brow before setting it on his handgun again.

Celes smirked. "Have you ever killed someone with a blade, cadet?"

The soldier swallowed heavily, refusing to speak as he tried to keep his weapon focused on her.

"Your trembling tells me you have not," she observed, not needing an answer. "I should wonder, then, how many lives you have taken with firearms. Have you already crossed that boundary? Is it too late to spare your sanity?"

She took another step forward, and the soldier took a step back, bracing one finger on the trigger.

"You should do it now," Celes insisted. "You should kill me. With a blade. Better you find out here, in safety, than amidst a raging battlefield. We both know I'm too volatile to keep prisoner."

The soldier was shaking fiercely, now; such that Celes doubted that, if he pulled the trigger, he would strike her such that the wound would be fatal.

"Do you not have a blade, cadet?"

He was with only his handgun; he had clearly been on break, and kept it only as an emergency measure.

"Perhaps I can give you one."

A chill wrapped the soldier's support hand, and a shout tore through his lips as the sweat he had wiped from his brow now froze, forming a blade that dug into his wrist. The handgun fell to the floor, and the man fell to his knees, grabbing the wound with his good hand and pressing it against his stomach; Celes, knowing he was in no position to fight, shoved the table aside with one foot and stepped towards him.

"They say the most ancient of hired blades used knives, hidden in their own flesh, to dispose of their victims. A weapon that could never be taken from them - and that would mean they would always be armed, even if they were captured."

She brandished her icy blade, swiping it through the air before the soldier, just close enough to clip a loose strand of hair.

"Which makes me wonder - did any of them, captured by the enemy, see fit to commit seppuku? To die in honour, rather than be executed?"

The soldier raised his gaze towards her, a fierce glare on his face despite the tears of pain in his eyes.

"To be fair, nothing so small could sever a head. But it ought have blade enough that they could drive it into their stomach..."

His glare vanished, replaced with an expression of shock.

"...and from there, raise it to pierce their heart."

The blade that had struck his veins, so he would drop his weapon, had expanded and struck his gut; now, the blood flowing from his wound froze, expanding to push his arm up - such that the blade from his wrist cleaved his vitals asunder.

Then it melted away, leaving him holding a knife to his heart.

The door burst open again, and Celes glanced out the corner of her eye to see a squadron of five with machine guns. Upon seeing her there, the two at the front fell to their knees, and all five of them levelled their arms on her.

With a sigh, she released the frozen blade, letting it clatter to the ground, before kneeling in front of the dead soldier - who, for all intents and purposes, looked as though he had taken his own life. Slowly, she raised her hand and closed his empty eyes.

"Repose en paix."

+x+x+x+

"You analyzed your surroundings with enough efficiency to escape within _one day_, killed your guard and the first squadron to see you with _horrific_ efficiency, and when confronted with a lone soldier, undermined his nerves and left him appearing to have committed _ritual suicide_ to any who have not seen the surveillance footage."

Emperor Gestahl, who had been slouched upon his throne like a blackheart, now righted himself and set a hand upon each arm.

"I see your time in the captivity of the Returners has done nothing to warm your heart, Lady of the Frost."

Celes was stripped to her underthings, reshackled with her hands behind her, chained together at the legs, and guarded by two men with Ifrit-loaded machine guns; yet the glare she gave Gestahl was unhindered, and still more than enough to chill his mouth. "You played me," she snapped. "You put me in that cell for the express purpose of seeing how long it would take me to get out."

Gestahl leaned his head back. "Tell me," he mused. "Tell me your side of the story. What happened in Figaro, that day that Kefka had you imprisoned for treason?"

"Nothing that _you_ would not condone," Celes spat. "And to set the record straight: I was not under the Returners' _captivity_. I was their _ally_."

"So everyone assumes when they begin to aid those they call enemies," Gestahl dismissed. "But it matters not. You have shown all the same resourcefulness that prompted me to promote you to General."

"If you're going to offer me the chance to take back the position," Celes demanded, "then _forget it_. I refuse to work with the Gestahlian Empire again."

Gestahl sighed. "Surely there is something I can offer you," he insisted.

Celes smirked. "I have three terms," she insisted. "But I already know you will not fulfill _any_ of them, and I will not aid you again unless you swear to fulfill _all _of them."

The Emperor narrowed his gaze. "Name your terms, Celes Chere."

"You will have Kefka Palazzo _executed_," she demanded. "Not by firing squad - you will remove his head. Completely. with an axe."

"That you would demand it be removed _completely_ implies that anyone's execution would _not_ involve such a removal," Gestahl observed.

"I want him to have an executioner," Celes elaborated, "not a kaishakunin."

Gestahl angled his head in a 'well, yeah' manner. "What else?"

"You will stop slaying everything that sees our monstrous workings," she continued. "Or, at the very least, you will not kill those who already know about it."

"And your third term?" the Emperor demanded.

"You will stop controlling Terra Branford," Celes insisted.

This prompted Gestahl to lean forward. "She has already been completely swayed to the Returners' cause," he observed. "What does-"

"You know full well what I'm talking about," the former general snapped. "You have been controlling her - utterly, and completely. And if you wish for me to join you, that will _cease immediately_."

Gestahl frowned, straightening on his throne and lowering his gaze. "Control...?" A small smile replaced his frown and he raised his gaze. "Ah, do you perhaps mean this?"

It was at that moment something fell over Celes' head, and she had no chance to react before her body stopped obeying the commands of her mind. A man stepped before her, removing her shackles; and though she wished to strike him across the jaw, her hands simply fell to her side. The chains around her legs were likewise removed, and the soldiers at her sides held their firearms skyward as Gestahl got to his feet.

"General Chere, at attention."

The Emperor's command echoed through the throne room; and as much as Celes would rather die than obey it, her hand rose in salute.

* * *

Draco: Come now, did you expect her to be acting of her own volition when they met up again?


	32. river of sine waves

Draco: Tales of Phantasia is being an ass. Or maybe it's my VisualBoy. Whatever. Something hates me. The save keeps corrupting.

I know I _really_ should have picked my tracks better. This is the only one I could find that was even remotely appropriate to the chapter. It's for the Serpent Trench, and Gau and Cyan are two of your party members in the Serpent Trench, and I'm just _tired_ right now.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**river of sine waves**

"Tell me that is _not_-"

The _Blackjack_ had arrived in the airspace above the cave that led to Roku Okoku. Setzer, however, was very displeased to find the cave was across a bridge over a river, before which was a large structure flying a Gestahlian flag. The ship was holding position in the air above the area, and everyone on board was sitting in a cargo bay, with its doors open, so as to take a good look at the structure.

Locke had refused to accompany them, saying that he 'would rather hunt treasure across the seafloor than get on that ship again' and insisting that he would stay at Narshe if he couldn't get to the coordinates Maduin had given him.

"Damnation," the yoko muttered. "It's an Imperial outpost. We can't land near enough to approach, or they'll see us coming."

Gau cried softly. "We jump?" he offered. "Land in water?"

"The impact would kill us from this height," Cyan insisted. "Even if thou wouldst take thy aquatic form, striking the water would still slay thee."

"Don't you have any skydiving gear?" Edgar demanded, turning to Setzer.

"I have four parachutes," the gambler admitted. "But even if we can make half of us work, they'll see the chutes deploy and shoot us down if we try to land in the water."

Sabin sighed. "We _can_ make half work," he insisted. "What if we land a bit from the outpost, then sneak past?"

Edgar clicked his tongue. "Imperial security is too good for that," he insisted.

"Then we could beat 'em up," Sabin countered.

Cyan shook his head. "They'll be too numerous for such an approach," he insisted.

_"Airship Blackjack._"

The amplified voice from outside caused all of them to turn out - and up. There was a massive vessel hovering there, with the Gestahlian insignia emblazoned on it's side; a thick curse passed from Setzer's lips as he got to his feet. "They've got air patrols," he realized.

_"You are not authorized to remain in this airspace."_ The ship had a very impressive speaker, considering it was still a good while away. _"Depart at once, or we will be forced to fire upon you."_

"Damn it," the gambler muttered as the others rose. "I'll get the chutes. You decide who's going down."

"Got a coin?" Edgar asked.

Setzer reached into his pocket. "Just your double-header," he admitted, tossing it to the king.

Sabin turned to him. "Double-header?"

"It's nothing," Edgar insisted nervously. "Just a trinket fro-"

The prince grabbed his hand with enough force that he reflexively released the coin, prompting Sabin to grab it before it hit (or missed) the floor. "Wait, this...! This is Dad's coin!" His gaze went up to Edgar. "You-!"

"Sabin, now is not the time," the machinist insisted.

Setzer was walking back into the bay with two parachutes in either hand. "Who's going?" he demanded quickly.

Not quickly enough.

Something _powerful_ sounded from outside; none of them had a chance to react before a shot slammed into the side of the Blackjack and _blazed_, sending the ship rocking. Edgar and Sabin braced against each other with their fists on one another's shoulders; Gau set one hand on the floor, Maduin grabbed the edge of the doors, and Cyan simply widened his stance.

Setzer hit the floor of the bay.

Terra tumbled out the doors.

Maduin spun. "Terra!" Without thinking, he leapt out the doors, diving towards his daughter.

The gambler cursed again, getting to his feet. "What the hell is he-!?"

He was interrupted by Cyan grabbing a chute and strapping it to his back. "Get to the helm!" he insisted. "Pilot thy ship out of harm's way." He then grabbed another pair of chutes and turned to the wild boy, who was rising up again. "Sir Gau?"

Gau only gave a cheer, grabbing the chutes and leaping from the bay; and Cyan quickly leapt after him.

Setzer cursed, pounding the close for the bay doors, and turned away, taking the last parachute back to its proper place.

+x+x+x+

The moment they were clear of the _Blackjack_, Gau had let his body shift. In a few moments, his body was that of a siren at war; with a parachute in either hand, he began to fly earthward, faster than a dive alone would allow.

Maduin was trying to catch up to Terra, but she was falling as fast as he was, and was making no progress. He was understandably confused, however, when he saw a pair of great wings out the corner of his eye; turning to them got something shoved into his torso, and he closed his hands upon it as Gau flew faster earthward. Realizing the package was a parachute, he quickly strapped it to his back and turned back earthward.

Gau caught up to Terra in no time, but the dancer was tumbling through the air enough to make it hard to focus at her. Remembering how the siren's form amplified his voice, he tried to get her attention. "**TERRA!**"

The dancer managed to turn up; before she could resume spinning, Gau set the chute into her hand, and then flapped away, changing his course so as to land safely.

It took less time than they had expected from the airship's height; in a few moments, they were landing on the earth not far from the outpost, their hastily-deployed chutes quickly unbound from them. Terra was a little shaky, but otherwise alright; Maduin was just relieved to see his daughter was safe. Cyan was less than pleased, and Gau was just shifting his body back - he still remembered Valigarmanda every time he pulled his wings.

"Okay, we've landed safely," Maduin observed, upon making sure everyone _was_ safe. "What the hell was step two?"

Cyan rolled his shoulders. "At this point," he admitted, "we must take Sir Figaro's advice. We slip past unnoticed, or we defeat any who obstruct us."

"Sneak," Terra insisted, unhesitating.

Maduin nodded. "Sneak," he agreed, in the same tone.

Gau gave a similarly-intoned cry.

Cyan had no objections; frontal assault against an entire Gestahlian outpost was not his preferred course of action. "Very well," he mused. "Sneak it is."

+x+x+x+

Sneaking, as it turned out, was entirely unnecessary.

The Imperial outpost was empty. Not deserted - everything was in place, orderly - but specifically left untended, as though there were nothing worth guarded.

Terra glanced about the outpost, preparing for an Imperial cadet to leap out at her. "Where are they?"

"The soldiers, you mean?" Maduin inquired.

Cyan paused, and then sniffed the air briefly. "It was vacated recently," he mused. "And prepared for a quick return."

"This feels _weird_," Terra protested. "This feels _wrong_."

Gau angled his head and gave a quiet cry.

"Imperial soldiers are trained to never leave a post deserted," she insisted. "There is always someone on guard. So why isn't there someone here?"

Maduin looked around briefly; then he closed his eyes. "There is a presence," he observed. "In the cave, on the other side. Someone lost, perhaps, and seeking Roku Okoku."

"Is it well known?" Cyan mused.

"It might be," Maduin admitted. "The soldiers might have pursued them into the cave, wanting another prisoner. No doubt they'd be eager to replace us. If so, the post is not unguarded - the soldiers are simply closer to what they guard. We move carefully."

He led the way through the outpost, with Terra and a cautious Cyan following suit. Gau was last to follow, raising his gaze to the skies. The _Blackjack_ had taken off the moment they had landed; but the Imperial ship had stayed. Now, it was hovering above them, on patrol.

The wild child gave the vessel a cold glare; then he let his body shift. It wasn't a noticeable shift, as far as the body goes - a few streaks of ice in his ponytail, a lighter footfall as he stepped after Cyan - but it was a step nonetheless.

* * *

Draco: UGH. _UUUUUUGGGGGGH. **UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGH.**_ You have never truly been a fan of _anything_, until at least _something_ of which you are a fan has sunken your favourite ship and torn the fuses out of all of your headcanons. _All of them!_


	33. Camp Kefka

Draco: Playing Symphonia for VI-er inspiration after Phantasia starts effing up was not my brightest idea. I was halfway through my third straight run for the GRADE alone when I realized an even-affection save (or at least, Phaelin7's even-affection save) doesn't work on the PlayStation version. Honestly, I get better inspiration from reading Heraldry than I do from playing games.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Camp Kefka**

"_Here's a health to the throne, and a lasting feast!  
To faction an end, to wealth increase!  
__Come, let us drink 'til we need breath!  
__For there's no drinking after death!  
And he that will this health deny!  
Down among a dead man  
__Down among a dead man  
Down! Down! Do~wn! Down!  
Down among a dead man, let him die!_"

The mad joy echoing through the cave had kept Terra, Cyan, Gau, and Maduin on alert through the whole trip; that voice was not one they were going to be careless about. Sure enough, they soon came across a wider area in the cave - with several tents set up, covered in Imperial insignias.

And standing at the far end, with a drink in his left hand and a mace in his right, was a jester straight out of hell.

"Kefka," Terra murmured.

"Seems he overpowered Chere," Maduin observed. "Or maybe outmaneuvered her."

Cyan grit his teeth. "This makes everything so much more difficult," he murmured.

Terra glanced back the way they had come. "It does explain the altered tactics," she admitted. "He's not exactly one for conventional logic."

Maduin closed his eyes, his hair drifting slightly in a wind that was not there. "That presence from before - it's in one of the tents," he mused. "Whatever they were chasing in here, they caught it." He paused, closing his eyes briefly again. "But... it's warped," he murmured.

Gau gave a quiet, questioning cry.

"The aura feels _wrong_," the yoko murmured. "It's like they're here, but they're not here. I don't get it."

Cyan glanced around. "We can worry about affected presences later," he insisted. "Whoever it is, we must rescue them on our retreat. First, we must reach the gate to Roku Okoku."

"Do you have a plan for that?" Maduin inquired. "We won't be able to get past this many men."

"We don't need to. We just need to get past Kefka."

Everyone turned to Terra. Gau's cry of confusion spoke for all of them.

Terra turned to watch the jester again; he seemed to be incredibly idle. "Imperial break camp - the soldiers raise the alert if they notice something, but the commanders are the ones responsible for keeping a watch. Kefka is most certainly _not_ keeping a watch, and even if they do call him General, now, the soldiers aren't going to be keeping their eyes out when it's their superior's job. We don't need to get past everyone; we just need to get past Kefka."

Maduin winced. "I suppose being trained to serve the Empire has its advantages," he admitted begrudgingly.

"Few and far between," Terra muttered.

Cyan glanced at Kefka; then he turned to Gau, fur crossing his body starting to shift. "Sir Gau?" he inquired.

Gau cried quietly; then the two of them started forward. Maduin went to stop them, but Terra only held her hand before her father, stopping him from advancing. The wild boy's footsteps were much lighter than they ought have been, given the way he walked; Cyan was moving so fast the sound of his footsteps could have been mistaken for anything. It didn't take long for them to arrive at the far end of the break camp, not far away from Kefka - who, to his credit, didn't look like he was all that drunk despite the array of empty bottles nearby.

They were both hidden behind a different tent when Kefka spun round, causing Terra and Maduin to duck behind the stones. Kefka didn't seem to notice them; as Cyan and Gau watched, the jester stepped into the nearest tent. The Doman quickly rushed back, getting father and daughter moving; they were past the camp and gone before Kefka had even been inside for a noticeable amount of time.

"That was too easy," Maduin protested. "He has to have let us by on purpose."

The onimodoki shook his head with a cry. "Get past going in, easy part. Hard part, get past going out."

Cyan turned to him. "Spoken like thou hast done such a thing before," he observed.

"Gau admit nothing."

+x+x+x+

"Report, bitch."

As Kefka stepped into his tent, he snapped towards the woman next to the entry flaps, who was standing next to a communications array. At his order, the woman only shook her head. "No one in a suit pulling strings," she murmured.

"Damn it," Kefka scoffed. "If I don't get a different order in the next five minutes I'm going in there myself."

"Don't fall into the dream," the woman mumbled. "They're never what they seem..."

Kefka laughed. "Oh, please," he insisted. "I'm sure I could figure out how to work that door if they would just let me try."

The woman only lowered her gaze. "That pretty picture in your head-"

She was cut off by a static from the com, and turned towards it as a voice came through. _"General Palazzo, respond."_

The clown stepped forward, hitting the transmitter. "Give me somethin' to do," he insisted.

_"An airship 'Blackjack' was recently attacked in the airspace above the outpost. The vessel has retreated, but seems to have dropped four paratroops. Emperor Gestahl has deemed fit to grant you permission to experiment at the former entry to the monstrous community, so as to have a final guard should the enemy approach it."_

"Finally!" Kefka cheered. Then, with a hand on the com, "Tell him I'm there."

_"Understood."_

Kefka chuckled, turning to the woman who was sitting next to the array. "Come on," he insisted. "Get ready. I'm gonna polish off one more bottle of Demon Eye, then I'm gonna alert the troops. You'd better be ready by the time I'm done."

+x+x+x+

"That is..."

"...huge."

Maduin chuckled at Cyan and Terra's observations upon seeing the Sealed Gate. "A smart man would be tempted to crack the stone," he insisted. "The door remained unfound for a few generations, in this matter."

Gau gave a cry to snap them to attention. "We here for reason?" he insisted.

"Yes," Terra admitted. "We are. Father?"

The yoko stepped forward, patterns lighting up across his body. He stepped forward to the gate, and set his right hand upon the center of it; then he turned away and took six steps back, and then one to his right, before turning to face the gate once again. His left hand was raised, palm facing the gate; his right was held to the side, palm facing back.

A shine emerged around his feet, arcing into a great circular pattern of brilliant crimson light. He was standing just off the center, which was in line with the gate, upon a ring of emerald; next to it was another, and Terra, seeing her cue, stepped onto that. Though hesitant at first, she took her father's hand and raised her other towards the gate, as he had.

And the cavern began to _quake_.

Cyan and Gau stepped back, the werewolf raising his sheathed wakizashi in defense as the stone gate was covered in arcane patterns.

+x+x+x+

"Elder! Someone is attempting to bridge the void!"

Haku Ryu turned in a shock as Kujata - a thunder beast who had been watching the link to the human world ever since they had fallen back to the void - rushed into the elder's cave. "What's going on?" the Nosferatu demanded.

"There are several monstrous presences at the cave," Kujata explained. "Two of them have triggered the arcana on that side to bridge the void."

The elder was on his feet in an instant, reaching for his katana. "Maduin and the rest of them must have broken free," he realized. "He's the only one outside who knows about it. Get Yura and the Fenrir squadron and meet me at the gate."

"Yes, sir!"

Kujata was gone in an instant, and Haku Ryu started towards the cave where the doorway had once resided. The lifeless frame had been destroyed, which meant that anyone walking through the cave would now take notice of the massive circular indentation, adorned in all matter of mystic runes - identical to that in the cave.

And the runes were shining with arcane light, indicating the attempt from the other side.

+x+x+x+

"The Empire's troops will be taking notice of these tremors," Cyan protested. "How long will this take?"

Maduin shook his head. "As long as it takes Haku Ryu to be alerted of the signal, get the attention of the others, and arrive at the gate with Kujata," he insisted. "If they're coming, we're going to need a guard!"

"Thou _must_ be speaking in jest," the samurai groaned, turning towards the entryway. Imperial troops were indeed approaching; he and Gau could hear the thundering footfalls of marching soldiers from the camp. With a heavy sigh, Cyan tightened his grip on his wakizashi's sheath, glancing between the gate and the entry to the gate's cavern.

He turned to Gau, stopping him from shifting immediately. "Sir Gau," he asked the onimodoki, "hast though seen a yoko before? Aside from Lady Branford and Sir Fuwa, that is?"

Gau gave a cry of affirmative.

"And... couldst thou take its form?" he added.

The wild boy gave him a look. "Want me distract soldiers? Look like yoko, trick them?"

"Precisely," Cyan confirmed. "The residents of Roku Okoku won't open the gate if the Imperial-"

Gau cut him off with a wave of his hand and a cry of dismissal. "Talk later," he insisted, "do now."

He turned towards the entryway and charged forward - and Cyan was at once confused and impressed when the feral boy was wrapped in fur of vibrant gold, his body shifting to a proper canine stance; twin tails of golden fur sprouted from behind him as he charged into the cave, the only remnant of the onimodoki its unkempt mane.

Cyan was still for a moment, confused at Gau's transformation; then he admitted to himself that he had never _seen_ a yoko as young as Gau was. The difference between his imitation state and Terra's transformation was great, however - although he was all but certain the Imperials had never seen Terra transform, he could only hope that it would be enough to keep the soldiers distracted for as long as the negotiations took.

And it seemed they would not take very long at all - for the grating of stone prompted him to turn as the massive seal opened. The center of the circular pattern, and a segment that linked it to the edge, pulled to one side; the larger indentation, bar that segment, pulled to the other. A blinding light shone through the gap, prompting Cyan to throw one arm before his eyes.

When at last he could see again, he was quite impressed.

There was nothing _off_ around those on the other side of the gate. He had expected a ripple around the edges of the gate, or for there to be a wave across their bodies, or for them to be faded, reminiscent of a shikigami's projection. At the very least, he had expected the image to be flat, such as that of a video upon a screen (perhaps rounded, just slightly, as though the screen were very large). But on the contrary, they were standing there, completely ordinary, such that Cyan at first thought that they had been imprisoned within a hollow behind the gate, in a manner similar to Valigarmanda's blazing ice.

Then he shifted his position, such that he was immediately behind Terra and Maduin.

And he saw the sun setting behind those who stood there, across a community of monsters.

And he realized just what kind of magic was set into the sealed gate, and Roku Okoku.

The two alight with magic on the Roku Okoku side were impressive in and of themselves. One was a figure of stunning gold, head and shoulders above everyone present, with raised veins and massive, clawed hands; a pair of firm horns arced out from over his head, and his body sparked with the voltage of a thunder beast. The other was eye level with Maduin, with dark blue leggings and a katana in one hand.

And_ leathered black bat wings_ emerging from his back.

"A Nosferatu," Cyan gasped. "Asura damn it."

There were several others standing behind the winged man and the thunder beast; although most of their transformations were subsided, he could see a few other pairs of wings and what looked like a tail. The samurai glanced back in the direction Gau had gone; then he stepped forward, his hand on his wakizashi.

The winged man spoke first.

"Maduin. Well met."

His words only drew a small smile from Maduin. "I feared we'd never see one another again."

A nod from the winged man; then he turned to the girl at Maduin's side - who flinched upon receiving his gaze. "You are... Terra Branford?"

"Yes, elder," Terra confirmed. "It is a pleasure to meet you... properly."

The man - the elder - did not waste further time with formalities; he turned back to face Maduin. "You must have bridged the void for a reason," he stated. "What do you need?"

"Aid," Maduin said firmly. "The Gestahlian Empire is weakening, but we six have been weakened in our time as their captives."

"I suspected as much," the elder observed. Then, loud enough for those behind him to hear him clearly: "Fenrir squadron, advance."

Everyone behind him took one step forward.

And thundering footsteps from behind Cyan stopped them from taking another. The samurai turned, realizing the sound was much closer than it ought have been. "No. No, no, no, no!" he protested. To Roku Okoku; "Get thee through the gate and seal it again! If that madman sees it open-!"

The footsteps halted before he could see their owners; then a young, familiar figure was thrown into the broad cavern, rolling weakly upon hitting the floor as he came to a stop before Cyan, groaning with a weak cry.

Terra turned to the elder. "How long does it take the gate to close?"

"Sixty seconds," he confirmed.

"Everyone, get through."

Then she released her father's hand, arcing into a spin and then a dancing backflip; as the magic runes vanished beneath her feet, a figure in garishly bright colours stepped into the cavern.

And a bolt of fire hit him in the face, throwing him back the way he came.

The elder's order rang out the moment she moved. "Fenrir squadron, charge!"

He and Kujata moved aside as quickly as they could as the monsters behind them stormed forward. Shots rang out from one-handed weapons, but Cyan's newmoon speed put his wakizashi in front of each of them until the volley of Feymarch rounds subsided; then he grabbed Gau and pulled him aside aside as the monsters stormed into the caverns. Soldiers were thrown into the walls, trampled underfoot, slain as they were passed; and the residents of Roku Okoku were all but unimpeded by the Imperial troops as they made their way out of the cave.

Kefka managed to scramble into the main cavern as the squadron passed - and he was greeted with the sealed gate, covered in runes, as they faded.

Terra raised one hand forward, palm skyward; and she raised the other skyward, palm forward. "Stay away," she mandated.

"You!" he snapped. "You sons of bitches! That big rock! I knew that had something to do with it! The magic on there gets the door working, doesn't it!? How the hell am I supposed to work that!? How the hell did _you_ get it working?"

Cyan raised an eyebrow at him. "And what dost thou expect to gain from asking that?" he inquired. "We shan't acquiesce the demands of a madman in clown's garb."

Kefka laughed. "That's the thing, though," he taunted. "I'm not just a 'madman in clown's garb' anymore. I am General Palazzo! Lord of the Flame!"

"Hey, Lord of the Flame," Maduin called. "Your ass is on fire."

The jester yelped, turning towards his rear end and rotating 180. That left his back to Terra, prompting her to skid her foot back across the ground. A burst of flame crossed the stone surface, and though he noticed the lack of blaze on his hindquarters, he didn't have time to turn back before the burst flared up across his back, throwing him upward and into a flip before he landed face-down on the floor of the cave.

"Nice shot," Cyan praised.

Kefka whirled around with a glare and a growl.

Terra only reached for the swords crossed upon her back.

The sight earned Kefka's laughter again. "You think that just 'cause you got the vanguard means you've got anything up on me?" he taunted. "I can handle a weapon, too!"

"This, I have to see," Terra mused, remembering the mace he had been swinging around in the camp.

A pause; then Kefka threw his hands to his sides in a shrug. "_But_ I can't handle a weapon _against **you**_," he admitted, aiming his finger at Terra. "You're too good! I know that already! I'm still _sore_ because of what you did at Narshe!" He rubbed his side like he was nursing a bruise. "I can't take you on with swords in your hands!"

He then clasped his hands behind him and leaned forward, one foot moving to the side like he was preparing to make way, his lips a firm line within the painted smile on his face.

"So if you're going to be the dancer, I'm gonna leave this to the mime."

Terra was confused for a moment - and further when he made no motion to step aside. A mime? Did he intend to attempt a mirror match? Nobody in the Empire could mimic her dances - in the faded memories she had, she was fairly certain at least _someone_ had tried. And only Kefka had ever seen her fight with swords before. But she couldn't think of anything else he might mean by that. As she contemplated, the jester was silent - he was _waiting_ for something. It was easily the most disturbing thing he had ever done; when she had been under Gestahl's control, the Emperor had often made sure that Terra was in the room when Kefka was around for the sole purpose of having _her_ silence balance out Kefka's _inability_ to be silent.

_Her silence..._

The realization struck her, and her eyes went wide, her hands parting from the grips of the Icebrand and Thunderblade upon her back.

The painted grin was quickly accompanied by Kefka's own.

"Got it."

He straightened up - although his foot remained at the side - as he set one hand on his chest and raised the other above his head. "Ladies and gentlemen! Enter the lead actress in this crazy night!"

He spun as he stepped to the side, taking another two steps to complete a 540-degree turn.

And an armoured figure in gold and amethyst stepped into the cavern in which the gate to Roku Okoku lay.

"The Lady of the Frost, _Celes Chere!_"

Cyan growled heavily, his body starting to shift. "Chere, you-!"

He was cut off when a tall flame lit up in front of him. Shocked, he turned to Terra, who had one hand out as though to hold it before him - the firewall seemed to be a result of not being close enough to stop him physically. Her gaze was locked on Celes - but it wasn't a look that felt betrayed. This was the gaze of someone who has seen something _unjust_ done to someone they care about, and is horrified to see the results. Confused, he turned back to Celes, trying to find something _off_.

Then he saw it - the circlet of gold around her helm that gleamed with something unnatural.

No sooner had he taken note of it than Celes turned to him with those eyes of frost - and Cyan felt the saliva in his mouth freeze solid. Her expression didn't even change as she reached for her side, drawing her sword - a different blade, here, with an edge the colour of blood - and raising her shield - a weapon of a much darker gold than her armour, emblazoned with a Gestahlian insignia.

"And you once said... 'I wish you dead, you sinner'."

Her voice was as cold as the ice she commanded.

The scream of a blade being drawn quickly caused her to turn back to Terra. The dancer now had the Icebrand in her left hand, and as Celes and Kefka watched, she drew the Flametongue in her right; her feet shifted, landing perpendicular to each other - as they would for her dance - as she held the weapons at her sides, the blades raised. Celes looked at her curiously; then she took one step forward, bracing the shield before her and holding her sword back.

Terra shook her head, trying to get through the crown's control. "I don't want do this to you."

Celes only tightened her grip on her bloody sword. "I don't care if heaven won't take me back."

The dancer moved first; Terra leapt into the air, flipping backwards as a bolt of fire flew from her heel. Celes raised her shield, and the flames slammed into it with a spreading blast; some of the blaze scattered across her sabatons, but there was no pain on her face to show for it, and she lowered the battle plate as she raised her sword.

She was greeted most unkindly by Terra's upswing; the dancer's forward flight during her flip had left her all of three steps from the controlled General, and only a quick movement of her bloody blade stopped the cobalt edge of the Icebrand from striking her full-force. Even then, a faint cut was raised across her cheek, and she quickly retaliated with a thrust of her own sword. Terra deflected it with the cold blade, in the same movement lashing the Flametongue down; Celes only raised her shield, the crimson edge glancing off of it, before thrusting the plate forward.

This, Terra was _not_ expecting. The flat surface slammed into her full-on, causing her to stumble back, and Celes quickly swung her bloody weapon in an inward side-swing. Terra managed to deflect it by holding the Icebrand horizontally and bringing it up - although that didn't stop the weapon from cutting a light gash across the side of her forehead - before arcing into a spin and bringing the Flametongue around. She had no intention to harm Celes herself; the crimson edge hooked on the hilt of the bloody sword, locking it in place, before she slammed the cobalt into the handle where Celes' hand didn't grip it, forcing it to the floor of the cave.

Her shield moved again, but this time Terra was ready for it, raising the Icebrand to guard against it. This time, however, Celes swung the battle plate so its edge struck, putting more force into the blow, and the cold weapon was knocked from her hands, skidding towards the void around the gate to Roku Okoku; only Gau's quick thinking stopped it from tumbling away. Terra leapt back, arcing into a forward flip, as Celes swept the bloody weapon off the ground. She quickly swung earthward, and Terra deflected it to her right with the Flametongue - although it did land a shallow cut on that shoulder - as she drew the Thunderblade in her left hand.

Again did Celes try to swing with her shield; Terra only stepped aside, leaving Celes undefended but for her weapon. However, the shield was strapped to her arm, leaving her hand free; she grabbed Terra by the forearm, gripping with enough strength that she released the Flametongue involuntarily, and she lashed her bloody blade down her other arm, causing her to drop the Thunderblade; then she raised the weapon to Terra's neck.

"Spells beyond you," the General observed, "as I watch you crawl."

There was a moment of stalemate, Celes' empty aqua eyes locked onto Terra's desperate emeralds.

Then the dancer's hands moved, bright flames lighting in her palms.

The blazes expanded quickly, arcing up Terra's arms. Her left hand grabbed the blade of Celes' bloody sword; the flames on the other arm burned strongly enough that the snow fairy ghoul was forced to release her, stepping back in horror. She couldn't get away before Terra slammed her right hand into the straps of the shield, burning them away and causing the golden battle plate to fall to the earth; then Terra stepped back as fired ignited around her feet, her shoes burning away. The flames had reached her shoulders, and now arced across her garments, burning them away as Terra lifted off the ground. She doubled over in midair, crossing her arms as the flames completely consumed her, her ponytail snapping as her hair, now unbound, was adorned in fire.

For a split second, the dancer was wreathed in crimson flames.

When that split second ended, the flames _shifted_, turning a vibrant hot-pink as her flesh began to burn away inside, becoming a blazing white nova. She clenched her jaw as her teeth became fangs, bowing her head as her hair elongated to pass her waist, its colour shifting to just a _shade_ off the pink flames around her.

She lashed her arms and legs out, opening her eyes - which now were furious lazuli.

They locked with Celes' own eyes, and the empty aqua in the General's gaze was _flooded with fear_.

Then Terra lashed her hand forward, the white fire that her flesh had become within the pink flames brushing against the golden crown around Celes' helm - and a _necrous __purple _voltage ripped across the device. Celes lashed her head back, stumbling away and writhing, her unbalanced footsteps taking her right and then left before she collapsed upon the floor of the cave.

Terra's foot shifted, kicking the fallen Flametongue up to her hand, and her index finger brushed against the nondescript indent in the hilt of the sword before she hurled it forward - and Kefka yelped as the blade tore through the shaft of his battle mace, sinking into the stone behind him. The weighted head of the weapon clattered to the ground, millimetres from his foot, and he turned to Terra - to the flaming figure that was the very girl he had once controlled.

Her feet shifted, landing perpendicular to each other.

She held one hand forward, palm skyward; and she raised the other skyward, palm forward.

Then a gunshot sounded, and Terra had hardly a moment to react before a bullet flew towards her. It passed through her raised hand ineffectively, the casing of the bullet melting without harming her - but voltage ripped out around her as the Ramuh round was broken, and it stunned her for a moment.

A moment was enough.

Kefka rushed forward, grabbing Celes' limp figure while Terra was still writhing; then, dragging her like a ragdoll, he took off into the cave, kicking the half-dead soldier who had fired at Terra while he passed. The dancer had recovered, and moved to pursue him; but a hand caught hers, and she turned - surprised, for this was the first contact she had felt in this form - to see Maduin standing there.

"Enough," he insisted. "We can chase him later."

**I'm not going to let him take Celes _again._**

Everyone was caught off-guard by Terra's words - for despite the vibrant form that her arcana had landed her with, she was still a yoko, and the way a yoko talks is _weird_ the first time one hears it, like a voice from behind that never reaches the ears.

Maduin only shook his head. "You needn't worry," he insisted. "He's stuck with travel on foot. We can signal the _Blackjack_ and-"

"No!" Gau's cry caused everyone to turn to him. "Empire ship, still above cave! Not chase Setzer!"

"What?" Cyan demanded. "No! It must have been under orders to await Kefka's exit of the cavern! Damnation!"

**I'm going!** Terra demanded, pulling her hand from her father's and rocketing out of the cave - her feet not even touching the ground.

+x+x+x+

They caught up with her outside the cavern.

Kefka and Celes were nowhere to be seen. On the ground before Terra was the golden circlet that had been on Celes' head, and the three of them looked skyward. The Imperial ship was gone; after a moment, the Blackjack came to a stop above them, and a figure trailed down on a rope. Setzer came to a stop a good three metres away from the group, his gaze locked on Terra.

The dancer only angled her head, concerned.

A moment's pause; then Setzer, hardly audible, inquired, "Terra?"

She nodded in confirmation, recalling that he had never seen her like this.

The gambler turned to Maduin. "So that's what you were talking about." Then, hardly pausing, he turned to Gau. "Your description really doesn't do it justice." Then, not even pausing to breathe, he aimed a finger at Terra. "You are _not_ getting on my airship if you are _on fire._"

**Then bring me a robe, or a jacket, or _something,_** Terra insisted. **It burns away my clothes when I do this.**

"That's a general problem with a yoko's first transformation," Maduin admitted. "Once you get the hang of it, your clothes get reformed upon the reversion."

Terra gave her father a look. **I'm not going to risk it, thank you very much.**

Setzer pulled off his jacket, leaving himself in his black and white undershirts. He seemed about to throw it to Terra before thinking better of it, setting it carefully on the ground; then he aimed one finger of one hand at Maduin and two fingers of the other at Cyan and Gau.

"You three, come back with me, we'll drop the rope once we're on board."

* * *

Draco: You know something, I cannot do convincing female vocals to save my life.

Alright, I figured you guys needed a nice long chapter again after how long I've been absentia and the series of short chapters I've submitted during that time. Bonus points to anyone who can figure out the... {counts quickly} six very _specific_ references I included here, and can tell me what they all have in common.


	34. 13th Floor Demonstration

Draco: Okay, I KNOW where I want this to go and I THINK that I know how to get there, so the only present problems are temporal management and track limitation. And if I hit 40 tracks and still have trouble, I'm going to start using SOME of the original track names as well - largely because I have no idea where I'm going to put 'Train Suplex'.

It will never _not_ happen. I will always take five minutes out of my time to watch Type-0's opening sequences, and when Class Zero strikes their badass pose the only thing going through my mind will be 'Organization XIII, eat your heart out'.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**13th Floor Demonstration**

"That could have gone better."

Everyone was back on board the _Blackjack_; Terra had found a dress in one of the closets (that Setzer _insisted_ belonged to one of his old girlfriends) and changed into it, and although it was slightly more restricting than she would have liked, it was better than nothing. Maduin had checked on the other ex-prisoners and found everyone well recovered from their collective hangovers; and now Terra, Locke, Edgar, Sabin, Cyan, Gau, Setzer, Maduin, Seraph, Golem, Zona, Phantom, and Kirin were all gathered around one of the craps tables.

At Cyan's comment, Setzer only shook his head. "It could have gone worse," he insisted. "We got some allies from Roku Okoku. And Kefka still doesn't know how the gate works. If we can find this... Fenrir squadron? then we should be able to fight the Empire - properly." Turning to the former prisoners; "Do any of you know where they might end up?"

"I can't say with certainty," Maduin admitted. "I'm the only one who ever spent a lot of time in the human world. At most, I reckon they'll find some out-of-the-way cavern and stay hidden."

Golden turned to him. "Hold on," she insisted. "You asked for their help with the Gestahlian Empire, didn't you?"

Maduin gave her a look. "Yes," he confirmed, "but why would that-"

"Then wouldn't they try to attack the Gestahlian Empire?" she demanded.

Locke raised his gaze. "They wouldn't be that reckless... would they?"

"I would hope not," Maduin insisted. "When they attacked Roku Okoku, everyone involved almost died. The only reason they even had prisoners to take was because they came there _to_ take prisoners. If they attack Vector-"

"Then the Empire won't expect it."

Everyone present turned to Terra. "What do you mean?" Zona inquired.

"The Gestahlian Empire is the strongest opposition to any monstrous forces _when they are prepared_," she insisted. "But if they're caught off-guard - by _anything_ \- then everything falls apart. If the Fenrir squadron attacks Vector from out of nowhere, with no strategy involved-"

"It'll be so unthought that they can't retaliate," Kirin realized. "That Emperor of theirs will die."

Edgar shook his head. "It can't be that easy," he insisted. "There _has_ to be something we're missing."

A moment's pause.

Sabin raised his gaze. "If he's not _in Vector_," he observed, "then he can't die."

"Why wouldn't he be in Vector?" Seraph inquired.

Terra lowered her gaze. "His pride... is in being there when things go down."

Golem raised an eyebrow. "But... you said he wasn't at the gate..." she insisted. "What could possibly be 'going down' that he would elect to miss _that?_"

"Something huge," Locke admitted. "Something... incredible."

A moment's pause; then Cyan's gaze shot up.

"They wouldn't be so foolish...!"

+x+x+x+

"She under the crown again?"

Kefka's inquiry only brought Gestahl to nod. The two of them were at the bridge of the Imperial airship, and were currently en route to Doma. "With the application of a new crown, she is under control once again. You may have to re-apply any of your continuous orders, but she oughtn't be disobeying any time soon."

"Good," the clown sighed, taking a seat next to the Emperor. "If it's working on her, it oughta still work on Terra. The way she was fighting, I can't _wait_ until we get her under control again."

Gestahl gave him a look before facing forward again. "If what you have said is true," he insisted, "there is no possible way for us to get her under control again."

Kekfa pouted.

"However," the Emperor added, "we should no longer need it, once we have arrived."

"Wait, what?" Kefka demanded.

"My liege, we're coming up on Doma."

The voice caused Kefka to turn, rising from his seat. Upon seeing the figure in the green tailcoat, the jester groaned, lashing his head back. "General Cristophe," he observed.

"General Palazzo," Leo greeted. "You'll be joining us?"

"Joining _what?_" Kefka demanded, turning to the Emperor.

Gestahl only got to his feet. "They say that the castle of Doma was built on the ruins of an even more ancient one," he explained. "And in that ancient castle, there is an artifact, housing a spirit of unimaginable power. Whosoever shall possess the artifact, the spirit shall obey him."

Kefka looked like a child on Christmas as the Emperor spoke. "Ooooh! Sweet! I'm gonna go prep Celes!"

He took off, leaving the Emperor alone with Leo.

The Lord of the Blade sighed. "Exercise caution when dealing with artifact spirits," he insisted. "They are not easily swayed."

"General," Gestahl insisted, "this the only time you will ever hear me say 'I am not prepared', when I am not taking efforts _to_ prepare."

The statement confused Leo. "And... why are you not?" he inquired.

"Because I am not prepared for this to be _easy_."

+x+x+x+

The Imperial ship landed near the smouldering wreckage of what was once the Empire's previous camp, the sun setting in the distance. The bay doors opened, and Gestahl, Kefka, Leo, and a re-crowned Celes stepped out of the airship, quickly followed by a small squadron of about thirty soldiers.

"You know," Leo observed, turning to Kefka a fair time after they began marching, "I think this is the first time that multiple Generals have been on the same mission."

Kefka gave him a look. "You and Celes never done shit together?"

Leo shook his head. "We've never had need to," he admitted.

"And we haven't done shit since I got promoted..." Against all of Leo's expectations, Kefka turned to Gestahl and asked, without raising his voice, "What the hell do you think is going to be here?"

"Something ancient," Gestahl replied. "Something _powerful_, and moreso than any monsters that we have seen before." A pause. Then; "Well... any monsters that _you_ have seen before."

Leo was confused. "My liege," he insisted, "what are you saying?"

"I know that what we pursue is _not_ a Nosferatu," Gestahl said firmly.

"Oh." Leo recalled at this point the rumors that the Emperor had once spoken with a vampire in his youth - and it seemed now that the rumours held credence. "I see. My apologies."

"Your apology is accepted."

They arrived now at Doma Castle. The entry was still blown open from Kefka's (unauthorized) use of the 'Ifrit's hindquarters' weapon - Leo and Celes both recoiled at the smell of what Leo quickly realized was death (which was unnoticeable at sufficient distance, but got very strong, very quickly). Leo pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it to his nose; Celes reached under her armour, where she had always kept a neck gaiter that served as an impromptu gas mask when the need arose (not perfect against proper poison, but sufficient against simple stench). Even Kefka elected not to go in undefended, grabbing his collar and pulling it up over his nose in an attempt to shield his nostrils, and each of the soldiers pinched his nose with whichever hand was _not_ on his pistol.

Gestahl's composure was stronger; the Emperor walked in, leaving the three Generals and the squadron of thirty with little option but to follow him inside.

The bodies scattered about were unidentifiable as they made their way inside; poison seeped into flesh before being ignited meant that the burns began beneath the surface, leaving faces and figures marred beyond recognition. The Emperor - who knew the layout of Doma Castle from his father's campaign, when he was a boy - led the group through the ruined castle, and towards the dungeon. The damage to the structure was less noticeable, here, but there were yet some charred corpses in the cells. The cells were arranged on either side, leaving a section in the middle that they could march through; it stopped when there was still room for one cell on either side, although the wall on one side had a stairway labelled with _Execution_.

Emperor Gestahl stepped forwards the blank wall on the other side, coming to a stop two paces before it; and Leo, Kefka, and Celes stopped before they passed the last cell.

"Um... my liege?" Leo prompted.

"General Palazzo," Gestahl said firmly, turning to the harlequin. With one step to the side and a hand beckoned towards the empty wall, he ordered, "Work your magic."

Leo blinked. _Has this man gone mad?_

The jester whooped, throwing his hand in the air as he leapt. This caused his collar to fall from over his nose, giving him a noseful of death unfaded, and he quickly stopped jumping and covered his nose again before stepping towards the wall. He ran his hands up and down the surface as though he was feeling for something (although moving far too quickly that he would feel anything specific); then he hopped back, raised his hands like a boxer, and punched the wall, once.

The wall _trembled_, dust tumbling off of it - moreso from one particular region to his right, where a square hole on the wall was revealed. Kefka quickly leaned over and stuck his finger in it, twisting around - his hand was palm-up when he was satisfied, grunting lightly before pulling his finger out as quickly as he was able.

A section of the wall promptly slid into the earth, leaving a clean opening in the surface.

"Holy Shiva," Leo exclaimed.

Gestahl smirked, just briefly. "A little more _force_ than Shiva," he insisted, stepping into the entryway.

Only later did Leo realize what he meant by that. He allowed the Emperor and Kefka to go on ahead; then he turned to Celes, who only turned back to him.

"Turn away," she advised, "or face this day with me."

+x+x+x+

The passage Kefka had revealed took the Emperor, his three Generals, and their thirty troops down a long way - a stairway with only the slightest of arcs that just seemed to _keep going_. Kefka looked like he was about to _scream_ from the boredom of the decline when the staircase turned 180 and ended; Gestahl kept walking forward, and the clown leapt once to stretch - they had long descended far enough that the stench of death was no longer with them, so when his collar fell he made no effort to reaffix it.

Leo became suddenly aware that they were in an open cavern - and further, that his eyes had adjusted to a darkness that should not have been nearly as gradual as it was; he felt a gaze upon him, and he raised his own to the heights of the underground cave in which they stood.

And he saw a massive castle of shining white, looming out of the darkness of the cave.

A strangled gasp tore between Leo's lips, and he stumbled back, briefly. Gestahl turned to him as he stood there, and after a brief moment he managed to force out an incredulous "Holy _shit_."

_ly shit... ly shit... ly shit..._ His words echoed through the open cavern.

Gestahl angled his head in a 'well, yeah' manner; then he turned back to face the castle, beckoning for his soldiers to follow.

There was an entryway to the great castle - an open arch, such as a drawbridge would be raised to and lowered from, but with no drawbridge to bar it. As they stepped inside, Kefka's gaze went upward, and then he spun to walk backwards as he looked around - the entrance hall had a brilliant (albeit unlit) chandelier, with great doors on each wall not occupied by the archway. As Gestahl led them through the doors straight ahead, they found themselves walking through a grand hallway adorned in rich tapestries and great paintings, and then up a staircase with white golden handrails on either side and another chandelier above it; it met the wall halfway, and then divided into two arcing staircases up to the next floor.

"Not much for ruins," the clown observed. "I could throw a party in here and be praised for the upkeep."

"Yes," Leo admitted nervously. "This is all too... intact. There has been no signs of damage, and I saw nothing broken from outside."

"Creeps from the deep gonna be freaking up your mind," Celes observed behind him.

Leo gave her a look. "A little bit, yes," he admitted. "It's not ruined. It's not even aged. It's as if... it was sunken into the earth, at peace, and has been preserved ever since."

Gestahl was unfazed. "Doma was home to witches and sorcerers during a war between mankind and monsterdom," he informed the general. "It is possible they were drawn there because arcana has preserved this place. It is of little consequence."

The way he spoke was too certain to be a reader of history.

The central region of the castle was nine floors high, with access to the roof - from the roof, several towers could be entered or exited directly, although there were accesses to lower floors within them. The towers were all tipped with mighty domes of deep black, and had a single great window facing the rooftop courtyard - as well as two or three facing out from the fortress.

The highest tower, at the front of the castle, was thirteen floors high - including the ground floor, which it could not access directly - and every floor was as broad as the entrance hall. The top floor had five massive windows without glass facing the front of the castle, and a sixth towards the structure's main body; the bottom edge was just high enough off the floor that it would prevent a careless child from falling off, and it reached to a ceiling as high as all the soldiers gathered would be if they stood on one another's shoulders in a pyramid. A chandelier hung from the ceiling - unlit, as were every other chandelier they had seen - but where a normal chandelier would have light bulbs or candles, this one held clear, lightless crystals at every point. It hung over a half-circle table, upon which was set a crystal ball, its stand of black gold fashioned like three claws gripping it in trigram; nine seats were set around it, with the crystal ball placed at what would be the center were the circle complete.

A hexagonal, multifaceted jewel of bright white, no larger than a hand mirror, was set high in the wall above the central window facing the castle's front.

Leo glanced around at the walls and windows before his gaze settled on the crystal ball upon the table. "It must be nice," he observed as he turned to Gestahl. "To prepare for difficulty, and be met with ease."

"Although coming here was not expected to be painless," the Emperor admitted, "this is where the true difficulty takes place." He turned to the trio of Generals standing there. "General Palazzo," he mandated, "if you are unable or unwilling to remain completely silent, you are hereby ordered to escort yourself out of this castle, and wait at the entrance to Doma."

"Then why would you bring me this far!?" Kefka demanded.

"Because I thought you might appreciate the sight of this place."

Kefka opened his mouth to protest, one finger raised as though to make a point; then he caught his tongue, his finger curling back down to join its brethren. Defeated, he turned away and started down the stairs.

"General Chere," the Emperor continued, turning to Celes, "you are to wait at the base of the staircase to this cavern. You are _not_ to join General Palazzo at the surface until _we_ begin on our way aboveground."

Celes only nodded; then she turned away, starting down the stairs after Kefka.

"Men," Gestahl added, turning to the soldiers, "station yourselves in the courtyard upon the roof of the main structure of this castle with Bahamut loaded." Then, as the soldiers began down the stairs as well, "General Cristophe, you stay with me. And keep a hand your sword. I would not like us to be caught unprepared."

"Yes, sir," Leo confirmed. He was quiet for a long moment; only once the soldiers were atop the main castle's roof, and Kefka vanished into"But may I be so bold as to ask why?"

Gestahl did not respond at first, instead stepping towards the half-circle table. Confused, his gaze wandered, and he found himself approaching the nearest seat - the center on the round edge. He looked over it curiously - it was made of white gold, fashioned like a throne, and cushioned with black velvet to comfort whoever may sit upon it. It was sealed against the floor, but far enough that only an exceptionally large being - or a _very_ fat man - would be unable to sit upon it. He was quite curious to see black lettering upon the top of the seat, but it was reflective enough that he had to strain to read it.

_Diabolos_.

Leo stumbled back upon reading it. "What the...?"

"This castle once acted as a fortress for the warriors of Feymarch." The Emperor's words caused Leo to turn; he was standing at the flat edge of the table, immediately before the crystal ball. "It was a home for them when they could not return to Feymarch, and needed a place to stay. And there is one warrior of Feymarch who did never reside in the land of the gods - he stayed in this castle, and cared for it, such that whenever his fellow warriors would need come here, they would find comfort awaiting them."

At this point he reached forward and tapped the top of the crystal ball, gently, just once.

A bright light from behind him caused him to turn - the white jewel set above the central window had begun to shine. Leo reached for his sword, circling the table as the light slowly dimmed to a faded glow; then, to his astonishment, a figure emerged from that jewel. A minute figure, with a male face and silver hair at shoulder length, about half as tall as his forearm was long, garbed in what appeared to be a toga, and with what looked like a pair of dragonfly wings emerging from his back. His emergence did nothing to even ripple the jewel, and the moment his wings were free, they began to move. He slowly approached the table, and Gestahl stepped aside so as to allow him to perch upon the crystal ball; then he turned to the Emperor and his General, his eyes opening - bright gold eyes that were piercing despite their size.

"A surprising mistake," the figure admitted, "but not inexcusable."

Again did a smirk play on Gestahl's face just briefly; then, against everything Leo knew about the Emperor, he held one hand forward, crossed it over his chest, and bowed - in the same way that his soldiers always would when entering his presence. Not wanting to come across as rude, Leo quickly did the same, not daring to rise until his liege had done so - and his liege only did so after uttering words that shook him to his core.

"The artifact spirit, Alexander of Feymarch, yes?"

The figure perched atop the crystal ball had a bemused expression as the robed man rose, shortly followed by the coat-clad man at his side. "A human who knows the monstrous side to the tales of Feymarch?" he inquired. "How odd." Setting one hand upon his chest; "Yes, I am Alexander. May I ask your names?"

"I am Emperor Gestahl, of the Gestahlian Empire," was the reply.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "That's a little... redundant," he observed.

Gestahl took the comment in stride. "And this is my most trusted general, Leo Cristophe, Lord of the Blade."

Leo bowed his head again. "It is an honour to meet you, Alexander."

"Thank you," the spirit replied. Turning to the Emperor again; "May I ask for what purpose the emperor of a human empire sees fit to visit me, in knowing of what I am?"

"I am taken to understand that those of Feymarch will lend aid to those in need of it, should their cause be just," Gestahl replied. "I have come here, seeking your aid - as I am unknowing of the location of any other warriors of Feymarch, I thought it best to approach the one whom I am certain I can find, rather than risk spending ages in fruitless search of any others."

Alexander nodded. "A wise decision indeed," he replied. "Alas, I am afraid you are taken to understand incorrectly. We of Feymarch are revered as deities by monsters and humans alike, and it is a reputation that is not unearned. As such, we are forbidden from taking action for or against humans, barring actions of self-defense."

Gestahl narrowed his gaze. "And what of the affairs of monsters?" he demanded.

"It is irrelevant," Alexander argued.

"No, it is not," Gestahl mandated. "I seek the aid of Feymarch to defend mankind from monsterdom. I have seen good men - _honest_ men - die at the hands of monsters for the simple reason that they were in the same place at the same time and did not hide what they were."

The artifact spirit shifted his stance upon the crystal ball. "And do you think receiving aid from monsters will change the opinions of monsters?"

"I barely survived the war that killed my father," Gestahl retaliated, "and I have no intention of dying from anything but the frailty of my body."

"What does the death of your predecessor have to do with this?" Alexander demanded.

"Because his death taught me not to be _selective_ about my weapons."

There was a brief moment of silence; and it was hardly broken by whispered words from the figure before them.

"Mankind, and monsterdom..."

He lowered his gaze, his silver hair casting around his face. A sound emerged from him - quiet at first, only to grow in volume - and Leo reached for his weapon as the artifact spirit lashed his head back, his laughter echoing across the chamber of the highest tower, despite not coming from smiling lips.

Gestahl was not impressed. "If you intend to disturb me with the use of insane laughter," he reprimanded, "I regret to inform you that you have chosen the one game with which I have _far_ too much experience for my own good.

Leo did not argue that point - hearing Kefka's laughter was never good for the listener.

Alexander turned his golden eyes upon the Emperor again. "First," he insisted, "allow me to congratulate you for making it this far."

"In this castle?"

"In this _conversation_." Alexander's voice was fraught with tranquil fury. "To mask your intentions so well, when those intentions are so dark, is something I have not seen before. Blackhearts exude malice, and though I have not been hailed for my empathy, often enough they show their true selves before I have responded to them three times. You who call yourself Emperor, and fly a banner of your own colours..." He shook his head in the manner of someone impressed. "I have no reason to doubt that the loyalty of your soldiers is undying, even if they do not share the same extremes as you do. Such is your control over your emotion."

Gestahl smirked again - and this time, the expression stayed on his face. "To be praised by one of Feymarch is an honour," he insisted.

Alexander only smirked back. "Sadly, I am afraid you will not survive to bask in it."

The crystal ball beneath his feet was flooded with darkness.

And the castle began to _tremor_, throwing Emperor and General off-balance.

The chandelier, whose crystals had been transparent, was now set upon with a fiery shine, each crystal in place of candle or bulb filling with vibrant golden light. Outside, the earth began to quake - such that Kefka, dancing outside of Doma Castle to a tune only he could hear, tumbled to his ass from the sudden movement. He managed to get to his feet with a hand on his head - and he was shocked to see the earth, all of twenty paces ahead, begin to _pull itself open in all directions_. Alexander stood motionless upon the crystal ball despite the tremors, his gaze on the man in robes.

"You are correct in assuming that I am an artifact spirit," he told the Emperor. "Alas, to believe that you will take me prisoner is a mistake."

Gestahl managed to regain his balance, reaching into his robes and drawing a revolver loaded with Bahamut rounds. "Did you think I would face a warrior of Feymarch unprepared for power?" he demanded. "Even if you can surpass my expectations of your abilities - a might feat in and of itself - I can improvise." The firearm was raised to Alexander - the barrel was as large as the spirit's entire head. "Mistakes can be corrected."

"Some things _cannot_ **be** corrected." Alexander roared. The tremors of the castle increased in magnitude at his words, and outside, the earth vanished, letting the sun descend upon the castle. Leo managed to brace himself against the window long enough to regain his balance, drawing a sword of fiery crimson, but Alexander was unfazed. "Your mistake, Gestahl, was not in assuming that I am weak.

"Your mistake was in assuming that all spirits reside in artifacts that can be _held in one hand._"

The fortress _lurched_, like an elevator that had begun moving up; Gestahl released the firearm, throwing his hands against the table to stop himself from falling. Alexander did not even react, closing his eyes, and his voice boomed louder than ever.

"You are standing in my brain! This _is_ a fortress for my fellow warriors - a land of the gods _away_ from Feymarch - but more than that, it is the very artifact you intend to claim for yourself!"

Now the base of the structure locked against the earth, its tremors fading - and all thirteen floors towered above the surface, as the fortress began to glow.

"Alexander is a **castle**, _**flooded** with **divine light!**_"

A scream of energy resonated throughout the structure, and as Gestahl and Leo rose they could see out into the courtyard atop the castle. Each of the other towers was shining from within, and from each window facing the courtyard, at the top of each tower, a ray of violent white light tore out, tearing across the courtyard.

And whatever it passed that was not the castle itself became a _silhouette in the light_, that promptly _shattered_.

A shine was making its way up the stairwell; with what strength his body had, he propelled himself from the table and dove out the central front-side window, Leo vaulting the ridge immediately behind him. They were _too_ close - Gestahl's dive had slightly forward momentum than Leo's earthward propulson, and as a shaft of light tore from each of the five out-facing windows, it sheared Leo's mohawk almost to his scalp, ripped through the trail of Gestahl's robe, and slammed into the ruins of the Imperial camp with such force that none who had not seen it would believe it had ever been there.

Only Leo's quick thinking saved them. His sword was still in his hand; his thumb shifted up the hilt, pressing against a near-unnoticeable indentation in the hilt. As the blade turned white-hot, he grabbed Gestahl's arm before the Emperor could fall out of his reach; then he drove his weapon into the front wall of the tower, the hot blade cutting through the white gold like butter. Atop the crystal ball within, Alexander winced lightly, as a human would when taking an unexpected punch to the shoulder, and realized that he had missed the imperial men; Leo quickly pressed the trigger of his Flametongue again, letting the blade slowly cool. When they stopped, they were one floor off the earth, and Leo pried his weapon out of the castle wall - which, a split second later, he realized was _closing the cut_ \- before landing on the earth roughly, Gestahl managing a likewise landing next to him.

Kefka was approaching them from around the fortress, laughing maniacally upon realizing what had happened, and Celes was close behind him. Once they were before him and Leo, Gestahl shook his head, hating himself for his folly. "We must retreat," he demanded of the gathered Generals.

"You would run, would you?" Alexander's words echoed from above them; the artifact spirit was now standing upon the ridge of the window, gazing down at the four Imperials there. "After having come _so far_, after having come _**so close**_? Fine. I have no need to pursue you - not with my body, and not with my blades!"

The castle - _Alexander_ began to darken - the white gold structure fading to black.

"But heed my warning, Emperor Gestahl of the Gestahlian Empire. **We** do not condone your actions. We of Feymarch will not stand to have our kinsmen assaulted by your machinations. And we will do everything in our power to _see you fall!_ If you continue down this path you have begun, you will find that **you** are the only one walking it."

And when his whole body had become black as pitch, Alexander began to fade from the base up, leaving undisturbed earth where it had been.

"With Jade Passage at its end."

Emperor Gestahl was left standing there, empty-hearted as the fortress vanished. There was silence for a long moment; then Celes emitted a sound halfway between a scoff and a snicker, causing the other two Generals to turn to her.

"Been there before," she admitted, "but not like this."

* * *

Draco: Please, somebody tell me that they were surprised by _something_ in this chapter. Please. _Please_.


	35. Johnny's Got That Funk

Draco: If I remember correctly, Johnny C. Bad was the bar theme in VI... in those situations that the bar had a separate theme.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Johnny's Got That Funk**

"Let me get this straight. You guys have had the _Divine Light of Feymarch_ buried under Doma for the past eight hundred and fourty-two years, and you decided to just spread the rumor and see which occupant was stupid enough to piss him off?"

Setzer had set the Blackjack down between Albrook and Vector to strategize; and on the trip there, Cyan had explained the situation, in full (Locke had somehow made it to Albrook without an airship, proceeding to sneak on board once they landed and getting the short version from Setzer). At the same time the Imperial airship carrying Gestahl and his three generals had touched down near the wreckage of the old Imperial camp near Doma, Kirin's incredulous accusation was met with a heavy sigh from Cyan. "I suppose thou might well say that," he admitted. "But the story is not so simple, in truth. 'Tis complicated."

"_Un_complicate it," Zona demanded. "What is Alexander doing under Doma?"

"Alexander is the only warrior of Feymarch who cannot reside _in_ Feymarch," the samurai explained. "His structure acts as residence for his fellow warriors when they need remain in the human world. Whenever he looses his power to attack, his body is shifted."

"He changes his appearance?" Golem inquired.

"He changes his _location_," Cyan corrected. "The fortress is transported elsewhere - most often, in the vicinity of another castle - and sinks into the earth. I recall reading that he was buried under one particular region for so long that when a city was built around the castle, they called it 'Alexandria'. In any case, he cannot hide himself when he appears, and someone _inevitably_ tries to speak with him. It does not expend enough energy to shift him when he creates a passage from that near castle to his entryway - and often, he hollows the earth around himself as well - and then he sets himself into a sort of... hibernation, as artifact spirits are wont to do, until such time as he is disturbed."

"And eventually, someone down the generations tries to make that a threat," Seraph concluded.

Cyan shook his head with a click of his tongue. "'Tis not so 'eventually' as thou might presume," he admitted. "Rather, 'tis often begun by the same king ruling when he arrives. He spreads the rumor that Alexander will defend his kingdom, and it lessens whatever attacks might go on - even after he deigns to rise and cast his blades, and is shifted for the effort. Rarely does the king of that castle ever invoke it, however; more often, someone is - as thou put, Kirin - 'stupid enough to piss him off', and he and his troops get vaporized for the effort."

"So Gestahl is pretty much assured dead," Maduin mused.

"_Someone_ in the Gestahlian Empire is assured dead," Terra corrected. "We can't be sure that Gestahl will do it himself. It might be Kefka, or it might be Leo." Her gaze fell. "And... it might be Celes."

Locke shook his head. "We can't waste time debating," he insisted. "Gestahl is not in Vector. We ought head to Vector ourselves, and see whether that Fenrir squadron did anything. And maybe raise some hell of our own while we're there."

"I like that concept," Maduin admitted, "but _we_" - here he beckoned to himself and the other ex-prisoners - "can't go anywhere near an Imperial town. Anyone in Gestahl's colours will see us and snag us, if they don't _shoot_ us."

"Fair enough," Sabin admitted. "Then it's just us non-Roku, then."

Golem gave him a look. "'Roku'?" she demanded.

The monk raised a hand defensively and opened his mouth to defend himself.

"No, no, I'm not mad," the snow fairy insisted. "That actually kinda sounds cool."

Edgar turned to Setzer. "You wouldn't happen to have coms, would you?" he inquired.

"I think I've got some old interlinked earpieces in here," Setzer confirmed. "But what's wrong with just sharing cell numbers?"

"Not all have phones," Gau reminded him.

"Yes," Cyan agreed, "and I'm not eager to acquire one. The smaller and simpler the communications, the better."

Setzer angled his head. "Alright," he admitted. "But we need callsigns for this."

Locke gave him a look. "Callsigns?" he demanded. "What the hell kind of old-school spy game are you trying to play?"

"It's not a secure connection," Setzer elaborated, lashing his hand down. "And I'll bet you anything that they know how to intercept communications, and they _will_ if their tech to do so is still intact."

The treasure hunter grabbed his hand and shook it to seal the deal. A curse, barely breathed, passed through the gambler's lips.

Edgar sighed. "Alright. Callsigns then." A moment's pause. "I can't think of anything for me," he admitted.

"Perchance... 'Desert Gear'?" Cyan ventured.

Setzer raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"He's a machinist," Locke admitted. "I'm sure the desert's got a gear in there somewhere."

Edgar turned to his brother. "Sabin?"

The monk thought for a moment. "I'll be... 'Phantom Fist'," he replied.

The Roku thunder beast raised his gaze at that.

"Not like that," Sabin insisted. "Duncan used to call himself the 'Phantom Wing'. He was a tengu, and he's the guy who taught me martial arts. He deserves a legacy better than what Vargas did." He rolled his shoulders, causing spikes to shoot out of his shoulders and arms as his hands became scissor claws. "But I haven't got wings." His claws shifted back into hands as he closed them into fists. "So I'll go by 'Phantom Fist'." He turned to the samurai. "Cyan?"

The werewolf hummed, glancing down at the wakizashi he had set at his side. "I shall call myself... 'Eclipse Fang'," he insisted. "After the praise mine comrades in Doma wouldst give me, when discussing me amongst themselves and believing I could not hear." Then, turning to Locke; "And thou, thief?"

"_Treasure hunter_," the accused thief retaliated. Then, realizing what Cyan was trying to do; "And no, that's not what I'm calling myself, the Empire knows about that already." He thought for a moment. "I'll be... Stock Barrel."

"Where did that come from?" Zona demanded.

Locke chuckled. "I always answer my phone, 'lock, stock, and barrel', so as to confuse anyone who rings me and doesn't know me personally." He turned to their pilot. "Setzer?"

The gambler grit his teeth, contemplative; then he sighed. "Falcon Flyer," he mused.

Everyone present raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask," Setzer mandated. He turned to their wild child. "Gau?"

Gau gave a cry of uncertainty. "You pick," he insisted, beckoning to everyone.

Sabin hummed. "How about... 'Badland Roar'?" he prompted.

"The Veldt is _not_ a badland," Cyan countered.

"Shut up, it sounds cool," Sabin protested.

Gau cried in agreement; then he turned to their dancer. "Terra?"

Everyone fell quiet at that. Terra glanced at her hands, knowing she didn't want to use 'Flare Dancer' - and for more reasons than simply because the Empire knew it. Her gaze wandered, landing on Cyan's wakizashi; then she glanced at the Flametongue strapped to her hip, remembering how Celes had praised her when she had fought Kefka with her runic blade and the samurai's kodachi - and then she remembered her stint as a dancer in Figaro.

"I am... Dances With Swords."

+x+x+x+

"_One, two, three, hit it!_"

Setzer was in a bar in the Epsilon Sector, playing cards with some of the drunks and trying to get some intel. Although not succeeding much on the informational front, he was making a decent enough profit that he wasn't particularly complaining; this was the third bar he'd visited, and the only thing he'd learned so far was that Gestahl had long left when the attacks struck.

When his opponent ran broke and stormed off, he set a hand on his earpiece. "Stock," he whispered, "any luck with the palace?"

Locke, hiding behind the crates in a warehouse in the Theta Sector, only sighed, waiting until the end of the static told him Setzer had released his transmitter before pressing his own. "No such luck, Falcon," the treasure hunter admitted.

He had been trying to get into the Imperial palace from every angle; the front entrance had nowhere to hide, and the lab entrance was on so much more guard that he had only narrowly avoided detection by hopping inside and ushering a cat out the door. A moment's pause; then he hit his transmitter again. "Fang, anything on you?"

"Nay," Cyan replied, perched on a rooftop. "I've yet to find a trail." His speed had been put to good use in remaining undetected while he had tried to find some trace of the Fenrir squadron aside from the wreckage.

It was clear that the Roku _had_ been to Vector; there were damaged buildings, cracked pavement, a few fallen feathers, and all the humans were looking up - only his being a werewolf stopped let him avoid detection (although the sun having set made things easier). The samurai hit his transmitter again. "Roar, thy status?"

Gau gave a cry into his earpiece before hopping through a broken window. His attempts at looking for any Roku hiding out had only succeeded in pissing off the locals' pets, and he was currently trying to avoid the claws of what appeared to be five dozen cats and the thrown walking staff of an old man.

A few of the cats tried to leap up after him; Gau quickly kicked the bottom of a drainpipe off, letting water trickle onto them, before clambering to the roof. Once he was up, one hand went to nurse the scratches he had received before his escape as his other hit the earpiece. "No found. Fist?"

"Hold that thought," Sabin insisted. His hand closed on the arm of a punch thrown at him; then he kicked the attacker in the ribs. He and Edgar had elected to speak with the locals, but the monk was less-than-convincing, and this was not the first fight he had gotten into.

The punk grabbed what looked to be a crowbar of sorts, swinging it at Sabin; the monk only stepped aside and slammed his elbow into the attacker's wrist, forcing it against the wall until the punk released and took off. With a hand on his com; "Nothing on my end. Gear?"

"Figures, but no faces." Edgar's voice was thick with exhaustion. He had been quite amused and concerned to find out that Vector's Alpha Sector was a _red-light district__,_ and had spent his time working his charms the best he could to get information and not lose his leggings.

He had managed to keep his pants on, at the cost of getting only the sparsest information; he was currently stepping into an inn in the Beta Sector that he had checked earlier and found to have a bar. As he stepped towards that bar, he set his hand on his com again. "Dances?"

Silence on the line.

Setzer hit his own transmitter. "Dances, are you there?"

_"I'm here."_ Terra's voice was one of concern. _"And I've got something huge."_

+x+x+x+

The dancer had (with a little more digging) found in the Blackjack's closet a long robe that hid her blades, with a hood that she could raise to cast her face in shadows. Everyone else had agreed to simply let her do her thing, try and pull off as much as she could; the end result was that she had managed to sneak into the palace through a window.

She was on the opposite end of the palace from the Asura labs, which left her in what looked like an old-school armoury. Soldiers had been unable to raise the alarm before a kick full of voltage or a sword of frost disabled them, and Terra had made her way through the area, looking for anything of interest (there were more of the three Feymarch blades of which she had samples, but she decided against taking them).

Eventually, however, she found a door labelled _CLASSIFIED_, whose lock she managed to burn through with a finger full of flames. It was a very small room, no larger than a broom cupboard; all it contained was a small table, with a black box sitting on it that was no larger than Edgar's chainsaw.

The surface was labelled _Zantetsu_ in bright white.

As voices began to exchange over the com, a confused Terra picked up the box, carefully looking it over. There was nothing on the box except for the label; slowly, she braced it against the table and pried it open. It was a simple two-piece containment, held together only by its own friction - it was lined with padding, and contained only a single figure.

A small stick, red so dark it was nearly black, and thinner than the stems of some flowers she had seen.

She carefully lifted it from the box; turning it found it to be hollow, and she was wondering why it was so protected and so named when a voice from behind her shouted, "What are you doing here?"

Terra turned, seeing a soldier in Imperial garb standing there. Upon seeing her holding the thin tube, the man charged forward, one hand out to take it from her; reflexively, she gripped the tube tight to ensure he did not break it, not even thinking that it might break.

It vibrated in her hands, briefly and faintly.

Then something _surged_ out of the tip - something of bright blue, such that it was nearly white. The man, who was at arm's length at this point, came to an abrupt stop as the blue passed through his body and emerged out the other end. Terra was horrified when she saw blood began to flow from the point where it entered his body, unimpeded by what was there before him.

Her grip loosened, just slightly; and the blue faded into the air at once. The soldier had a clean hole in his chest, and as she watched, he fell to the earth.

_"Dances, are you there?"_

She realized suddenly that Setzer was trying to contact her; she reached her empty hand up to her com. "I'm here," she confirmed. "And I've got something huge."

Her gaze fell to the item in her hands - which was, itself, decidedly _not_ huge.

_"Shall we withdraw?"_ Cyan inquired over coms. _"Return to the ship, and discuss our findings?"_

Terra was about to hit the transmitter to respond when Gau's voice came through first. _"Wait! Ship empire! Approach city!"_

That was all the provocation she needed. Terra quickly raced through the armoury section of the, passing the soldiers she had already struck without a second thought, and vaulted the still-open window she had left from; then she charged through the city, and was nearly out of the community when she saw the airship touch down outside of Vector. She quickly took cover behind a ruined building, watching through the rubble - and what she saw was astonishing.

Emperor Gestahl, Leo Cristophe, Kefka Palazzo, and Celes Chere, all stepping into Vector at once.

* * *

Draco: {generic complaint about nocturnality} {something in dragontongue about how 'nocturnality' is a word}

I had the most amusing mental image of this chapter as a scene in a movie, and Johnny's Got That Funk starts up while Terra's trying to think of a callsign, such that the proper instrumentals kick in immediately after she says "I am Dances With Swords", and then transition to a huge oner of her walking through Vector in her hooded robe, Locke skating through the streets like a roller derby player, Sabin picking a fight with a punk in a back alley, Edgar sniping the first patrol to see him with his Auto-Crossbow, Gau scrambling up a drain pipe, Cyan dashing across the rooftops, and then land on top of a bar where Setzer's singing karaoke and beat-box as the track reaches "_One, two, three, hit it!_"


	36. Terra's Resolve

Draco: You don't realize just how huge and complex Alexander _is_ until you start trying to write him out. I thought he was simple. I thought he went up. He leans forward. The guy has freaking _knees_. You could house the _NPC-inclusive_ population of four Fantasies in this guy and give everyone their own room. I'm not even going to pretend the way I described Alexander is anything like he looks in _anything_.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Terra's Resolve**

It was a bizarre sight, watching the four most important people in the Gestahlian Empire making their way through Vector. Kefka had an amused spring in his step, walking backwards half the time and keeping ahead of the other three. Celes, under the control of the circlet, was emotionless, walking militantly. Leo had an expression on his face that Terra could only describe as 'having narrowly escaped death' - at his hip was a sword with a flame upon the sheath that she recognized as a Flametongue. Emperor Gestahl's pace was slow, almost _shocked _\- and although Kefka was prancing, he was moving slowly enough that he didn't gain any significant ground, with the other two remaining at the Emperor's sides.

Terra was focused on the Imperials, so she might be forgiven for not noticing the landing behind her until a voice whispered, "I haven't the slightest notion as to how they survived speaking with Alexander."

The dancer spun and nearly screamed before Cyan's palm covered her mouth. Once she was no longer attempting to scream, the samurai lowered his hand, whereupon Terra gave him a glare. "A little warning next time."

"Mine apologies." The werewolf glanced towards the Imperials. "That sword that the man in green is wearing... is that not one of thine?"

"It's the _same as_ one of mine," Terra corrected. "I got my swords from our stint in the Asura labs."

"Ah, yes." Cyan set is his hand on his com. "Dances and I are near the city limits, at..." - he glanced at the building they were hiding behind, looking for anything to show its purpose - "...what used to be a shooting range of sorts. Let us gather, and discuss what we've learned. Be cautious on the approach, the Emperor and all three of his Generals have arrived."

There was a commotion of confirmation over the coms; Gau was the first to arrive, followed shortly by Locke, then Sabin, and then Edgar. Setzer showed up last, and he looked concerned.

"I got a call from that Banon character from Narshe," the gambler stated, raising his cell phone. "Apparently there were some Returners stationed here who saw the Roku, and they reported to him before retreating. It seems they arrived at this place in a... mad frenzy, smashed a few things, raised a little hell, and then... looked horrified. They took off as though they were scared of something."

"We'll have to speak to my Father about this," Terra insisted. "First things first. Celes is here. We need to get that crown off of her."

Edgar shook his head. "With Gestahl, Leo, and Kefka all in the same building, after having seen Alexander? They'll be on the highest alert."

Locke scoffed. "To hell with caution," he insisted. "Not only is she one of us, but she's _dangerous_ if they can still control her."

Sabin rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing you have a plan to go with that insistence?" he inquired. "It's not like we can just walk in through the front door."

"Why not?"

Everyone turned to Terra; the dancer was quiet for a moment before reaching up and drawing her hood of her head, revealing her jade hair in its ponytail.

"That's exactly what we're going to do."

+x+x+x+

Gestahl stepped out into the entrance hall of the Imperial Palace, and was greeted with a very _confusing_ sight.

Terra Branford stood there, in a hooded red robe - although the hood was lowered, revealing her hair to be in the same ponytail it had always been. To one side was a man that he recognized from the reports of Doma as the samurai Cyan Garamonde, a wakizashi in his hand. To the other was the wanted thief, Locke Cole, with a knife in his grip. Behind her were the brothers, King Edgar Roni Figaro and Prince Sabin Rene Figaro; the king had a crossbow of his own design in his hands, and the prince his arms crossed over his chest. Before her was a young boy with wild hair, restrained only by a band to stop it from getting in his face; he was clad in only makeshift shorts and a drape across his shoulders, both from untanned animal hides.

The samurai's blade was held to Terra's stomach; the thief's knife was poised over her shoulder; the crossbow was levelled on her legs; and the boy looked like he was ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

"Is this supposed to be a hostage situation?" the Emperor inquired.

Terra smirked at the inquiry. "Not quite," she admitted. "We're here for negotiations. This is just a... precaution."

The Emperor did not look like he understood any more. "Against what?"

"Against _coronation_," Terra replied. "I have no intention of wearing a crown."

"You're a bit young to rule, regardless," the Emperor argued.

"Don't play the fool, Gestahl," the dancer reprimanded. "You know full well what crown I refer to. That which Celes Chere is wearing right now. That which I shattered before the entrance to Roku Okoku. That which you forced _me_ to wear, from the moment I could walk on my own two feet."

Gestahl's mask of unknowing vanished, replaced with a gaze of displeasure.

Terra's smile had vanished. "If you or anyone under your command should make any attempt at coronation," she warned, "my friends will strike me. I will set my flesh alight, and raze this palace to the earth. And you will have lost two wars in one lifetime."

A heavy breath emerged from the Emperor. "As it happens," he insisted, "I had meant to send an emissary to Narshe, and ask the Returners to send you and whatever escort you would desire here, that I might speak with you on that matter over a banquet of ceasefire. Alas, your arrival before the sending of my message means that nothing of the sort has been prepared."

"You seem to have confused me with one of your generals," Terra observed. "Unlike Kefka, I have patience. As do my allies. If you will speak with us over a meal, we will gladly wait until preparations have been completed."

"Very well," the Emperor replied. "It will take a few hours, at the least."

"Then we will wait here."

+x+x+x+

A few hours later, the banquet was assembled.

A dining hall resided immediately behind the Imperial throne room. It was here that Gestahl had elected to have the banquet prepared, with a great table adorned in a cobalt tablecloth and all of the finest silverware the Gestahlian Empire had to offer. The Emperor took the seat at one end, and insisted that Terra take the other; her five escorts seated themselves in the closest two and three seats on either side, with Edgar and Locke nearest her - the king kept his crossbow aimed at Terra's legs. Sabin was seated next to Edgar; Gau sat with Locke at one side and Cyan at the other (the samurai doing everything in his ability to make Gau come across as civilized). Leo took the seat at Gestahl's right; with Terra's permission, Celes was seated across from Cyan, although they had not removed the crown upon her head. There was an empty seat at Gestahl's left, that Terra presumed was for the remaining General.

"Will Kefka not be joining us?" the dancer asked of the Emperor.

"Forgive me for assuming that you would rather he not," Gestahl apologized. There were two men in hooded robes (Terra recognized them as what Celes had called com officers) at every entrance to the dining hall, and the Emperor turned to one of them as though to give an order.

"You assume correctly," Terra insisted, before he could act. "I was only confused by the empty seat."

The Emperor turned back to her, withholding any orders he might have been about to give. "Kefka is presently in his quarters," he explained. "I do not trust him to remain orderly in this situation, and so would only allow him to be seated here were you to request it."

Servants began to file into the hall, carrying all manner of the greatest food and finest drinks. The meal was set upon the table, and everyone was asked their drink of choice. They had thoughtfully brought a small bottle of Raiden Cola for the underage Gau; each of the others had a wineglass filled.

"Just water for me, please," Terra requested, remembering the last time that she had attempted alcohol.

Once everyone had their drinks poured, Gestahl picked up his glass of Black Cauldron. "Terra," he offered, "would you like to propose a toast?"

Terra took her own glass in hand, contemplating for a brief moment; then she raised it heavenward.

"To a balance between those who are different, in the hopes that they can accept one another."

The others all raised their glasses.

"To a balance!"

Glasses were touched to one another, and everyone took a drink; the Emperor was the first to lower his.

"The state of Vector seems to indicate that it was attacked," he observed. "I ask only for your honesty - do you know who attacked it?"

She had anticipated this question, and thought her answer out beforehand. "I know it was the residents of Roku Okoku," Terra replied, "but I know not their faces."

The Emperor bowed his head. "That monstrous community... Roku Okoku, you said? I had believed it sealed off from this world, never to be entered nor left. I seem to have presumed too much - and paid the price with my city." He lowered his glass. "May I ask... what is it you intend to do about this?"

"I can do nothing for your city," Terra said firmly. "Regardless of your actions, only a fool will deny that you deserved to lose something, for what you have done." A small smile rose on her face. "I imagine someone has already told you as much, during your trip to Doma."

Gestahl started, just faintly, at her words.

"However," the dancer continued, "if I am to be honest, I do not believe that what the residents of Roku Okoku have done was a conscious decision. I intend to find them, and speak with them myself. I will hear their side of the story, and choose my actions from there."

There was a silence across the table.

"Will you allow us to lend you our aid?"

That drew _everyone's_ attention. Cyan's hand went for his wakizashi before Gau stayed it.

Terra glared across the table. A light sweat broke out on Gestahl's face. "On what grounds?" she demanded.

"Miss Branford," the Emperor insisted, "you understand, I presume, what I intended to do in Doma. I now know, by firsthand account, that I am opposed by forces beyond my understanding. I intend to make up for what I've done." He raised a hand before Terra could respond; "I understand that nothing I do can truly compensate for the ruin I have laid. I invoked the wrath of Feymarch - and my soldiers paid the price. But I will do everything in my power to see that never again does a man die because of what I have done."

Terra closed her eyes, and the entire banquet was set to silence.

"I will accept your aid," she replied, "but on one condition."

Gestahl bowed his head. "Name it."

"You swear to me, and to everyone at this table, on Feymarch's royalty, you will _never_ let your soldiers raise their arms to monsters again."

A smile rose on the Emperor's face. "Very well."

Upon his chest, he braced one hand; and his gaze locked with Terra's across the table.

"Hand on heart, eye to eye, by the waters of Leviath, and the will of Asura, never again will a soldier of the Gestahlian Empire harm a monster - else my life be forfeit."

The lights of the dining hall began to flicker, drawing everyone's gaze - but for Terra and Gestahl, who kept their eyes on one another's.

Celes was the first to return her gaze to the table when they stopped. "Justice in the world is hard to find," she observed.

"_Creeping in My Soul_, Cryoshell."

Sabin's words caused Leo to turn to him. "I'm sorry?"

"That line," the monk explained, turning to the general. "It's from the song, _Creeping in My Soul_, by Cryoshell. I know that anywhere."

Leo turned to Celes; then he turned back to Sabin. "Been there before, but not like this," he quoted.

"_Never Again_, Nickelback," Sabin identified.

Everyone's attention was on the two as Leo spoke again. "Turn away, or face this day with me."

"_With Me,_ All Ends."

Cyan spoke up now. "I don't care if heaven won't take me back."

"_Angel With a Shotgun_, The Cab."

Then it was Terra. "And you once said, 'I wish you dead, you sinner'."

"_The Wolf_, Phildel."

Leo glared at the nearest door, causing the two com officers standing next to it to step away as he roared, "Kefka Palazzo, you sick bastard!"

"Enough!" Emperor Gestahl shouted, causing everyone to turn to him. "I understand your anger at what has been done to General Chere, no matter how well any of you may mask it, but I cannot remove her crown without the aid of the one who applied it. If we let Palazzo into this room, while you are all here, nothing could convince me that he will not attack all of you simply for being in Vector. Please, remain calm."

Gau grabbed his bottle of Raiden Cola and growled towards the Imperial end of the table before emptying it one-handed.

The banquet proceeded in silence from that point on, nobody speaking a word except to request a dish be passed down to them. As the meal drew to a close, Terra spoke across the hall to the Emperor again. "I have one more thing to ask of you," she insisted; and before Gestahl could reply, added, "and I am certain that it will not strain you."

"What do you ask?" the Emperor inquired.

"The man who brought us here, Setzer Gabbiani, provided us with communications. Were your men listening in on us?"

Gestahl turned to the nearest com officer, who reached under his hood. "Report on com surveillance in Emperor Gestahl's absence." A pause; then, "Thank you." His hand was lowered, and he turned to Terra. "The observational feeds were voluntarily shut down when the monstrous attack began," the officer informed her, "so as to minimize the chance of the tech being damaged. The system remained intact, but the soldiers neglected to reactivate the feed when the monsters departed."

"Yes!" Locke threw his hands in the air. "Done! Victory!" Then his hand went to his earpiece. "Pay up, gambler! You lose! You damn well better start maintenance on that dice game you call an airship! I expect _everything_ in _optimal_ condition by tomorrow!"

_"Can someone **please** tell me that he's joking."_ Setzer's voice coming over the com was defeated.

"Nay," Cyan replied.

Leo shot Terra a look. "Did you seriously just ask about our technology to settle a bet?"

"_With_ the most devoted follower of Lady Luck," Terra confirmed. "He promised anything."

"And you claim the prize of _his maintaining his airship?_" Gestahl inquired.

Locke turned to him. "With the way that engine room was groaning? _Yes_."

General and Emperor exchanged glances... and shrugged.

+x+x+x+

"We'll arrange transportation from Albrook. Will you be joining us, or travelling on your own?"

Leo and Gestahl had joined Terra's group to the doors of the Imperial palace (with weapons held to Terra's body the entire time); now they were outside, where Setzer had been awaiting them, and the Emperor's question prompted Terra to contemplate for a brief moment. "Will Celes be joining us?"

"Yes," Gestahl confirmed. "I will have the crown removed - or, if that proves impossible, I will have Kefka's orders negated - and she and General Cristophe will begin the search."

"Then Locke and I will join you," Terra informed him. "The rest will stay here, in Vector, while Setzer is performing maintenance on his airship."

"Would you like a hand with that?" Gestahl inquired.

"No, I most certainly would _not_ like a hand with that," Setzer replied snappily.

Gestahl nodded. "Very well. Meet us at Albrook, then."

"Do you have any leads concerning the whereabouts of the monsters who attacked?" Locke inquired.

"Intelligence confirms they headed northeast, towards a region known as 'Crescent Island'," Leo replied. "The village known as Thamasa is there - we can ask the locals if they've noticed anything."

Terra nodded. "Alright. Thank you."

The Imperials stepped back into the building, leaving the group standing outside. Locke sheathed his knife; Cyan sheathed his katana; Edgar hooked his crossbow on his back; and the seven of them made their way towards the castle.

"Is there a reason you don't want us to come with you?" Edgar inquired.

"I want you guys to keep an eye on the Empire at the source," Terra replied, her voice quiet. "Gestahl's vow means he cannot possibly order his men to act against us, but Kefka is a whole different story. I wouldn't put it past him to coerce a few men into launching an attack. If anything goes wrong, I need you guys and the Roku to act against him. Maybe come and get us in Thamasa."

Setzer nodded. "Alright. I'll head to the ship and start maintenance."

Locke turned to him. "I'm not _really_ expecting you to have it done by tomorrow," he admitted, "but don't fly that thing unless the Empire launches an airship or until its condition is as optimal as you can possibly get it."

"We'll stay in the city and keep an eye out," Edgar assured him. "Setzer, I'll ring you if things go badly. If you get the ship prepared, give me a call and just trail your escape rope in laps around the city."

"Will do," Setzer confirmed.

Terra rolled her shoulders. "Alright," she prompted, "let's go."

* * *

Draco: Finally. I've been waiting for a chance to use this track.


	37. Till We Meet Again

Draco: {rolls shoulders} It feels nice to get into this kind of writing frenzy again. I might well have this thing done by Christmas.

...Okay, doubtful, but a guy can hope!

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Till We Meet Again**

A short stop in the Epsilon Sector to get supplies, and then a longer stop at the _Blackjack_ to run over the plan with the Roku; then Locke and Terra made their way to Albrook.

Terra had decided to wear her swords _over_ her robe now that she wasn't sneaking around Vector - the Icebrand and Thunderblade on her back, the Flametongue at her hip. Locke had briefly considered skating into Albrook so as to make a friendly impression with Leo and whatever troops were with him, but decided against it so as to avoid startling the townspeople; as such, his and Terra's footsteps gave plenty of warning as they stepped into the harbour, where Leo was awaiting them aboard a cargo ship.

Celes was at his side - and the circlet was still upon her head.

"You said you were going to get rid of that," Locke accused.

Leo had seen this coming. "Kefka _refused_ to remove it," he insisted, "and the encryption means that it's impossible to force him into cooperating. The madman holds nothing dear enough to take hostage, and he _laughed_ at us when we threatened _him_. Even a Ramuh round to the leg didn't do anything to convince him."

Terra rolled her eyes. "I should have done this when I saw you guys walk into Vector," she muttered, holding one hand out to her side with the palm upward and her fingers cupped.

"Done what?" Leo inquired. "What are you-?"

A flame lit up in the palm of Terra's hand, prompting the General to yelp and stumble away. Terra turned the hand palm-down, splaying her fingers - and the flames turned hot pink, a purple voltage dancing across the fingertips, causing Locke to raise a hand before him. Before anyone could act to stop her, she daggered her fingers towards Celes, her nails clattering on the crown around her head.

The dark voltage surged across the crown, and Celes stepped away, lashing her head back, her body writhing in place as the the crown's hold was broken. Terra's unlit hand quickly rushed forward, and she managed to hook her fingers on the underside of the circlet before flipping it off Celes' head. The loop of gold turned once in the air, hit the railing of the ship, clattered on the deck through a whole turn, and rolled in a brief arc across the surface before slipping between the bars of the railing and plummeting into the water.

Celes began to collapse, and Locke quickly stepped forward, catching her against his arm. "Celes!" he cried. "Are you alright?"

"Oww..."

The Lady of the Frost opened her eyes, finding Terra's own gazing towards her. "You know," she groaned, "it really _hurts_ when you do that."

Terra reached for her own face, tracing her fingers in a line across her forehead. "It hurt when Valigarmanda zapped mine, too," she insisted. "Welcome to the club."

Locke got Celes properly to her feet, a smile on his face. "Glad to have you back."

Celes rubbed her forehead, glancing between the two of them. "Glad to be back," she agreed.

Leo coughed lightly, causing them to turn. "Thank you for that," he admitted. "We're prepared to depart tomorrow. And I've made arrangements for us at the inn. You three go on ahead and check in, it's getting late."

"You won't be joining us?" Terra inquired.

"There's a persistent rumour going about concerning a man and a dog," Leo admitted. "I intend to follow through."

"Oh, that'll be Shadow," Locke observed. "Bring your coins."

"I planned to," Leo admitted.

+x+x+x+

Celes was unable to sleep that night; after a few fruitless hours of attempt, she made her way out of the inn. Albrook was at the edge of the continent, most of the city build over water; the end result was that she could lean against the walkway to the inn and breathe in the scent of the sea, relishing in the feeling of her body obeying the commands of her mind once again.

She hadn't been out there long when a familiar voice from behind asked, "Restless?"

A small smile rose on her face as she turned to see Locke standing there. "Something like that."

Locke stepped up at her side, leaning onto the railing next to her. "Sorry it took so long for us to get you out of there."

"Don't worry about that," Celes insisted. "The Gestahlian Empire isn't exactly easy to break into. You're just lucky about what he did with that castle under Doma."

"You mean Alexander?" Locke inquired.

"I still can't believe that _thing_ was Alexander," Celes exclaimed. "Even with what his light did to the soldiers and the ruined camp, I still find it hard to believe that that _massive fortress_ was a living being."

Locke angled his head. "I don't really blame you," he admitted. "The way Cyan was talking about it, it just doesn't sound _worldly_. I mean, Ramuh sort of seemed..." He searched around for the right word before settling on "_mortal_."

Celes scoffed. "You're not the one that got your brain forced to run on lightning," she insisted.

"I think any thunder beast can do that if they're careful," Locke argued. "But an artifact spirit inhabiting a _castle_? That's _crazy_."

"Cyan talks like the age of Princess Esmeralda," Celes argued. "Gau is an onimodoki with more fighting spirit than _I_ have. Terra turns _white and pink_ when things go down. I don't think we're in anything position to judge what is 'crazy' or 'worldly'."

"That's..."

The two of them broke into a fit of laughter that echoed through the night.

Locke's smile faded before too long. "Seriously, though... I owe you an apology."

Celes turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"Kefka's little... _act_ when we broke into the Asura labs..." The treasure hunter shook his head. "I knew he was just talking Mulch. I know you would never go back to the Empire willingly. I bet you killed a dozen guys before they put that crown on your head. But..." His gaze fell. "When Setzer picked us up, Maduin said you had 'elected to remain in the lab'. I didn't think about what he might have meant by that. I..." He scoffed at himself, turning away.

"I called you Traitor Chere."

A moment of deafening silence.

"Locke..."

"I _know_," he insisted, his voice cracked. "I shouldn't have done that. I should have thought about his words. I was an _idiot_. I... I'm sorry. I know 'sorry' doesn't make up for it, but I _don't know_ what else to say. I'm _sorry_..."

Celes sighed. "Locke, please..."

"I'm sorry..."

"I'm not angry."

Her words caused him to turn. "What?"

"I don't like that you did it," Celes admitted. "I'm not going to pretend I'm alright with that. But Kefka is so _insane_ that even Leo- even _Gestahl_ is never sure what part of what he's saying is truth and what is just him amusing himself." She scoffed. "And honestly, I sounded a lot more like 'denial' than 'refusal' when I tried to call him out on it. I won't say 'it's okay'... but I will say 'don't worry about it'."

Locke was stunned. "Celes..."

"Promise me one thing, though," she added. "Next time I fall behind... don't leave me behind."

A relieved chuckle cut its way between Locke's lift. "Do I look like a pirate?"

Celes shrugged, turning back to the water. "You look like a thief."

"_Treasure hunter_," Locke insisted. "Trea. Sure. Hun. Ter."

"See," Celes cheered, "_that's_ the Locke I remember."

"You little-!"

_We won't stop until we say we're done..._

The song coming from his pocket cut him off, and Locke reached into his pocket, drawing out his cell phone. He flipped it open before the next line could start, raising it to his lips. "Lock, stock, and barrel."

Celes threw a hand to her mouth to stop from laughing.

_"You weren't kidding, were you,"_ Setzer mused on the other end of the line.

"What do you want, Falcon?" Locke protested.

Setzer could tell he had interrupted something. _"The Blackjack wasn't _**_nearly_**_ as bad as we thought she was,"_ he explained. _"Do you want me to come to Thamasa right away?"_

Locke clicked his tongue, remembering what Terra had said. "No," he corrected. "We need you guys around Vector. And besides, we're still in Albrook. We don't leave until tomorrow morning."

A sigh on the other end. _"Very well. I'm gonna see if I can up the speed on this thing a little bit."_

"Don't start modifications right after you fix an unmaintained engine!" Locke protested.

_"It's not unmaintained!"_ Setzer argued. _"It's just-"_

A scream of misaligned gears cut him off, and Locke heard a brief bout of worried shouting that left him to raise an eyebrow.

_"I take it back,"_ the pilot admitted. _"I should have run it more than once before I said 'it's looking good'."_

"Yes," Locke agreed, "you should have." He closed his phone, slipping it back into his pocket with a huff. "Gamblers."

Celes was confused. "Wait, 'Falcon' is... Setzer?"

Locke nodded. "The whole reason Terra asked about the Empire's com surveillance. Setzer got us earpieces and made us all set up callsigns because he didn't want the Empire to hear us talking in names."

It made sense to Celes. "What do they call you?" she inquired.

"Stock Barrel."

This time she couldn't have stopped herself if she tried; Celes loosed a sputter of laughter at his comment. Locke's face lit up red as he turned away. "Shut up, it was handy, okay?"

Celes shook her head, amused. "And you _all_ decided to play his old-school spy game?" she mused.

"My words _exactly_."

+x+x+x+

The next day, Terra, Locke, Celes, and Leo - as well as a not-too-surprising Shadow and Interceptor, plus a few soldiers to man the ship - had made course around the Imperials' continent and towards the Crescent Island region.

The seas were peaceful as they travelled, and Leo found himself reclining against the prow. "You know," he mused, "it's been quite a long while since I was at sea."

"You certainly sound fond of the last time," Terra observed. She herself quite enjoyed the gentle rocking of a ship, finding it different from the flight of an air vessel, and the feel of the wind in her hair was a pleasantness that she hadn't yet had the chance to enjoy aboard the _Blackjack_. Celes and Locke were below deck, and Shadow had managed to disappear.

"I guess you could say that," Leo admitted. "I believe it was shortly before I was promoted to General. We ran into some slight trouble with a whitetip shark after a wave knocked one of our men overboard, but we managed to avoid any casualties and the ship made it out alright."

Terra gave a nervous chuckle at the General's description. "Not exactly what I would call a friendly memory."

Leo's smile fell. "I'm sorry. That was... rude."

"No, it's not," Terra assured him. "It's... I think that's just a matter of taste."

The General got to his feet. "I must admit, I was surprised by the way you composed yourself during that banquet," he told her. "Even setting aside your... 'coronation', your speech was always so faded. With how few of the reports mentioned your name, I assumed that you had kept to yourself."

The dancer lowered her gaze. "Are you sure that wasn't just Gestahl trying to keep quiet?" she inquired.

"I suppose it might have been," Leo agreed. "The Emperor and Kefka were the only ones who ever mentioned you."

"Kefka..." Terra shook her head. "Can I ask you something?"

Leo closed his eyes. "Let me guess," he prompted. "You want to know why I serve Gestahl. Why I would willingly serve in the same army as a man like Palazzo."

Terra bit her lip, realizing now how rude her question was. "I don't think there are any men _like_ Palazzo," she ventured, trying to change the subject.

"There are _always_ men like Palazzo," the General insisted. "Those who relish in the suffering of others." He shook his head, turning the conversation back to her question. "I suppose it was a sense of duty. I was born in Vector, and my father was a soldier. When I met Kefka, and I realized the state of his mind... I wanted to resign." A heavy sigh. "But I couldn't bring myself to. I didn't want to lose my honour. I told myself, 'There will always be men you do not like', and I told myself to suck it up. I did my best to dissuade him from his choices... but in the end, I didn't have the heart to do anything more than tolerate him."

"And now?" Terra asked. "With Kefka shackled, that we might make peace?"

"I know not what to say," Leo admitted, stepping past her and towards the stern. "I cannot change the past. And indeed, I know not that I want to. In suffering by my own weak-heartedness, I am an emissary of peace between mankind and monsterdom. Were I not in Gestahl's army, this war might have ended with both sides falling for good. But here I am. If I must regret what I have done, then so be it."

Terra smiled faintly. "That's one way to look at it."

Leo turned his gaze to her. "You sound as though there is something else you wish to say."

"I feel like there's something I'm _missing_," Terra insisted, holding one hand before her. A flame appeared in her palm - so small that it was masked by her fingers, slightly curled. "With everything we've been doing, trying to stop people like Kefka from doing as they please, I feel like there's something I don't quite _get_."

"You claimed, when you confronted Gestahl, that you wore that crown nearly your whole life," Leo observed.

Terra nodded. "Yes," she confirmed. "I don't have any memories that I'm _not_ wearing it, before that incident in Narshe."

Leo offered her a soft smile. "Then what you are missing is no fault of yours," he assured her.

The dancer raised her gaze with a confused him, the flame vanishing in her hand.

"Nobody is ever truly complete until they have someone they hold dear," Leo explained, "be it a friend, a sibling, a beloved, a child, a parent, or a leader. You grew up in captivity, unable to act of your own volition, and surrounded by soldiers who saw you as a weapon - or else were not aware of your condition. And you have known none of your present allies for long enough to hold them dear, as of yet. Those bonds grow over time. When there is someone who accepts you for what you are, and cares for you as you care for them... I am certain that that feeling of something missing will fade."

Terra opened her mouth to speak.

And the ship _rocked_ with a sudden violence.

Leo hit the deck, caught off-guard. Terra managed to stay on her feet, bracing her hands to dance; after a brief moment, she lowered them and turned to Leo. "Can I borrow your sword?" she asked.

The General elected not to mention that she was wearing _three_ swords, one of which was identical to his own; he simply drew the weapon, gripped it by the blade, and held it to her. "You have a plan?"

"I have an idea," she corrected, taking the weapon. As Celes and Locke emerged from below deck, she flicked her finger across the hilt, lighting the Flametongue; then she made her way to the ship's railings, catching sight of movement as she leaned over.

"Terra!" Celes called. "What's going on?"

The dancer didn't respond at first; she braced the hot blade at her side for a moment before lashing it into the water. There was a brief burst of steam; then she saw something wrap around the blade, try to pull - she nearly lost hold of the weapon - and pulled away from the heat.

"Damn it, it's Ultros!" Terra snapped, pulling herself off the railing. She quickly drew her own Flametongue, igniting it as well; with two white-hot weapons in hand, her gaze went around as the kraken out of the water, landing on the prow of the ship with his tentacles extended.

"What's the big idea?!" he snapped, glancing around. Then, on seeing Terra; "Wait, you!"

Terra raised one of the Flametongues towards him. "I told you not to mess with us again!"

Ultros raised his hands and four of his tentacles. "I didn't know you were here!" he insisted. "I thought it was just a bunch of Imperial losers!"

"Will you leave us alone, knowing we are here?" Terra demanded.

"Abso_lute_ly!" Ultros insisted - and at that, he leapt back into the water.

No more passed between them; that was their meeting, their encounter, and their parting. Terra quickly flicked the hilts of the Flametongues, waiting until the blades cooled; then she sheathed one and flipped the other in the air, catching it by the blade and offering it to Leo. "Sorry about that."

Leo chuckled nervously, accepting the weapon and sheathing it. "That went well."

"You threatened him before?" Locke asked.

"At the opera house," Terra confirmed. "I told him if he attacked us again, he would have to be lucky to get away alive. I let it slide this time."

Celes only chuckled at her words.

+x+x+x+

The engine had been slightly damaged when Ultros had rammed the ship; it took the soldiers a while to fix it. They were still on the water when the sun set, and Leo proposed they all rest the night below decks.

When midnight came, Terra found herself unkindly awake; and so she made her way to the deck. The ship was anchored as they rest, such that everyone on board could sleep peacefully - if their bodies allowed it. Thus the wind was gone in her hair, though she still enjoyed the gentle rocking of the boat as she sat in the moonlight.

She wasn't out there long when a voice behind her asked, "Did you dance in South Figaro?"

The dancer turned, an eyebrow raised at Celes, who was standing there - her gauntlets were on her hands, although the rest of her armour was absent. "Yeah," Terra confirmed. "Where did that come from?"

"I just remembered my last job actually _working_ for the Empire," Celes admitted, making her way to Terra's side. "Gestahl sent me to back up Kefka's search for you in South Figaro. I checked the pub and couldn't find any sign you had been there."

Terra blinked. "And you found out I was dancing?" she asked.

Celes smirked; then she lowered her gaze to the seas. "Can you draw up some water for me?"

Confused by the request, but intrigued by what the Lady of the Frost might have in mind, Terra knelt down next to the railing, reaching her hand through and cupping it as she caught some water in it. It wasn't much - hardly any of it stayed in her hand - but Celes did not complain as Terra got back up to her feet.

"On three, swing it," Celes instructed.

"You're being cryptic," Terra protested, though she nonetheless turned to the side so that she wouldn't splash Celes.

"One... two... three."

Terra lashed her hand forward - and to her shock, the water was covered in chill before it parted from her hands. As she watched, an icy vapour was spreading across the deck, expanding in a way it oughtn't be able to do and draping the ship in fog - the chill was not enough for her to complain amidst the sight of it.

"Woah..."

At the access to the hold, Locke was watching them. Quickly, he silenced his phone and snapped a picture of the fog while it was still expanding; then he sent a message to Setzer's number - which the gambler had told him to text if he needed one of the Roku.

_To:Golem - Can a snow fairy do that with a few drops of water?_

Celes chuckled at Terra's reaction. "I don't like knowing where it came from," she admitted, "but it's kinda fun being a snowgirl."

"I bet," Terra agreed.

Locke received a message back; _Yes. ~Golem_

"Now," Celes added, "watch _this_."

She set rested one hand upon the amythests set into the gauntlet of the other; and as Terra watched, the vapour began to bend. Gaps in the fog emerged, and after a moment Terra realized they took the form of people. A moment further, and she realized that it was _them_ \- she could herself and Leo standing there as hollows in the mist, and she watched the hollow of Leo drew his sword - although the sword was not imitated in the gaps.

"I did this in the pub," Celes insisted as the Terra gap made its way to the edge of the deck, "and I didn't see you in the fog. One of the dancers... Wind? She told me that you were dancing - and that you put on a show with your flames."

"Yeah," Terra admitted. "I was drunk."

As the gaps of Locke and Celes emerged from below deck, Locke snapped another picture with his phone; then he send another message to Setzer's number.

_To:Golem - What about that?_

Celes broke out laughing, her grip on her gauntlet vanishing and causing the gaps in the mist to disperse. "You were _drunk?_"

Terra's face turned as red as a Flametongue's blade. "Edgar and Locke brought me there before they decided I should meet with Banon," she defended. "Edgar ordered me a Black Cauldron to see if it woke any memories, and when I didn't think it was familiar he got me a Final Eclipse."

"You didn't pass out from a Final Eclipse?" Celes exclaimed, incredulous.

"I passed out after the dance," Terra replied. "Before which I had _six_ Final Eclipses, and three Megaflare mixes, Breach Blast size."

Celes' jaw fell.

"And a couple bottles of Angel Feathers."

"Holy _shit_," Celes exclaimed. "Remind me not to challenge you to a drinking contest."

Terra shook her head. "Remind me not to accept," she countered. "I can't remember anything past the intro of the song. Except the flames. Locke said I keeled over after the performance and was half-conscious on our way to the inn. I woke up the next morning fully clothed and feeling like my throat was on fire."

Celes hissed sympathetically. "Alcohol does that to you," she mused. "I'm going to punch Edgar for getting a first-timer that drunk."

"That was my first time?" Terra asked. When Celes gave her a look; "The next morning, I remembered an Imperial party. Someone handed me a bottle, and then I saw Kefka upside down."

The Lady of the Frost was quiet for a moment; then she scoffed, a smile on her face. "That wasn't alcohol. That was the anniversary of Gestahl's ascension to Emperor. He throws it every year to boost morale. I saw you in the corner and handed you a bottle of Raiden Cola. I didn't see you again until the next morning - that was _my_ first time with a Final Eclipse." Her smile vanished. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Terra insisted. "You weren't the one that strung me up."

Only now did Celes realize there were still wrapped in fog, and she rolled her eyes, feeling foolish for getting distracted by her conversation. As Terra watched, the icy mist condenses to form a puddle on the deck; then Celes froze it solid and made it slide off.

Terra gave her a look. "Are you even _trying?_" she reprimanded, fighting a fit of giggles.

"Not really," Celes chuckled. "It's _fun_, doing that."

As the two of them laughed together, Locke received his message back from Golem.

_No. Who the hell is doing that?_

* * *

Draco: Because I'm evil like that.


	38. Pure Essence

Draco: I go through drinks a lot faster when I'm trying to shift my sleep habits.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Pure Essence**

Early the next morning, the ship containing Terra, Locke, Celes, Shadow, Leo, and his soldiers made landfall at Crescent Island.

"Alright," Leo insisted as they stepped off the ship. "We'll split up to cover more ground. Celes, if you would come with me. Shadow, go with Terra and Locke. Men," he added, turning to the soldiers, "wait here and guard the ship. There is the possibility that the inhabitants of Roku Okoku are still mobile, and I don't want any of you to fall because we were facing the wrong way."

The soldiers all held one hand forward and then braced it across their chests. "Sir!"

Celes turned to Terra. "Could I borrow your Flametongue?" she asked.

"Take the Thunderblade," the dancer insisted, unstrapping the gold sword from her back and handing it to her. "Better you not both have the same."

"Thanks."

Leo made no comment, simply turning to Locke. "Celes and I will scout the forest along the west," he informed the treasure hunter, "search for any signs of disturbance, restless wildlife, molted feathers, anything like that."

Locke nodded. "Yeah, sounds good. Terra, Shadow, and I will hit Thamasa and ask around with the locals."

"You'll want to be careful on that front," Leo warned. "I hear the locals are a little... less than friendly with outsiders."

Terra turned to him. "Do you have a cell phone?" she asked. "We should have some form of remote contact."

Leo drew out a small note, tore a piece off, wrote a number on it and handed it to Terra; then the two groups took off for their destinations.

+x+x+x+

Thamasa was a pretty small village, sitting at the end of a stretch of land jutting off the back of Crescent Island. Terra had reasoned it would be a good idea to hide her Flametongue and Icebrand under her robe again, putting both on her back so that she could draw them out the collar if she lowered the hood. As they walked into town, the three of them noticed a few nasty glares, but after a while they realized that most of them were directed at Shadow and Interceptor.

"I don't know what Leo was thinking, telling me to come with you," the mercenary observed.

"I think he just figured we could use the extra manpower if things went wrong," Locke admitted.

When asked who might be 'in the know', they were directed to a modest house at the edge of town - with a warning to 'be prepared for eccentricity'. When Terra knocked on the door, she was greeted by a very blatantly _old_ man who nonetheless looked like he had a lot of energy. He wore baggy grey leggings adorned in black splotches, a sleeveless shirt in dark red, and a mantle-cape-_thing_ in a brighter red colour. His hair was white with age, and he was leaning on a staff with a broad head, tipped with a black dome that seemed to be of glass.

"Who is it?" the man inquired.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Terra insisted, "but we were told to come here for someone who was... knowledgeable about this region?"

The man shook his head. "Oh, don't worry about that," he assured her. "I'm doing nothing of import anyway. Come in." He pulled the door wide and made his way further into the house, hobbling on his staff as Terra, Locke, Shadow, and Interceptor made their way in - with Shadow closing the door behind his dog. There was a small table not far from the entrance; the old man took a seat and beckoned for the trio to take the other three.

"So," he asked, "what is it you want to know?"

Terra sighed, thinking for a moment about how she wanted to phrase this. "We had heard that something... _strange_ happened in this area," she said carefully. "Something about an attack on the Imperial capital of Vector, and the perpetrators fleeing in this direction."

The man smirked grimly. "That sounds less 'strange' and more 'confrontational'," he corrected. "You three are affiliated with the Empire?"

"Not really," Locke replied. "Actually, it goes in the other direction. We wanted to know why they quit in the middle of it."

His comment prompted their host to give a hearty laugh. "You had me going for a moment, there!" he reprimanded. "I half expected you to start threatening me when I told you I don't know anything about it."

"Oh." Terra couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice. "You... don't know anything about it?"

The man had opened his mouth to speak again before footsteps down a flight of stairs turned heads. "Grandpa," a girl's voice echoed from the stairwell, "did you move my paints again?"

"No," the old man insisted, "they should be in the last place _you_ left them." His voice implied that this had happened before.

"I can't find them anywhere!" The voice's owner emerged from the stairwell - a young girl in yellow leggings and a black top, with a spotted blue hat and a yellow cape of sorts. "Could you at least-" Her words came to an abrupt stop when she saw the guests. "Terra!"

"Relm!" Terra was surprised to see the girl she had run into in Jidoor, the night of her first transformation.

The old man glanced between the two. "You two know each other?" he asked.

Relm nodded. "Yeah," she confirmed, "we met in Jidoor." Glancing at Locke and Shadow, she asked, "Are these... friends of yours?"

The dancer only nodded for herself. "Yes," Terra replied. "They've known about me longer than I have."

The artist hummed for a moment, contemplative; then she turned to the old man again.

"You don't need to hide things, Grandpa. She cries fire."

All three of the guests turned to their host with suspicious looks. Interceptor barked accusingly.

The old man sighed. "That was blunt," he reprimanded.

"You need things blunt sometimes, old man!" Relm retaliated.

"I should have seen that coming," Locke observed. "Small village, out-of-the-way, giving visitors evil looks."

"I told you they were looking at me," Shadow insisted.

"Most of them, yes," Locke admitted, "but that innkeeper-!"

Terra stomped her foot into the floor, causing everyone to fall quiet; then she turned to the old man. "Can we do proper introductions?" she offered. "I'm Terra Branford. This is Locke Cole, and the mercenary Shadow."

"Strago Magus," the host reciprocated. "And you know Relm Arrowny."

Locke leaned forward. "So, what exactly do you guys think you need to hide?"

A brief hum; then Strago lifted his staff from under the table. He held the head over the table and shook it lightly, like someone shaking salt or pepper - and a series of coins tumbled out of the top, the dome rippling like water.

"You're... a Yasha?" Locke ventured.

"Yes," Strago confirmed. "This village is a home for Yasha, witches, and other practitioners of magic - secluded, and removed. We are forbidden from showing what we are to any human outsiders... but if you cry fire, then you are not human."

Terra nodded. "You're right. My mother was human - my father is a yoko. Locke here is a monstrel, and Shadow..." She shook her head. "He won't share, and we won't pry, but he knows of monsters and will do naught to harm them."

Strago did not object. "Very well," he mused. "Then tell me, in truth - what are you looking for in Thamasa?"

"Residents of the monstrous village of Roku Okoku attacked Vector," Terra replied. "Gestahl has ceased his empire's campaign, and sworn on Feymarch's royalty to never harm a monster again. He has sent his General, Leo Cristophe, as well as us to seek the monsters and request a ceasefire."

"And you saw them come this way?" Relm asked.

"Gestahl's soldiers reported the Roku's retreat as in the direction of Crescent Island," Terra confirmed. "Is there any area... hidden, in this region? Somewhere a monster might seek refuge?"

Relm nodded. "You could check the Triple Caves," she offered.

Locke raised an eyebrow. "Triple Caves?"

"A cavern to the west, around the mountain range," Strago elaborated. "It lies north of the forest, although you can't get to one from the other. If you'd like, I can escort you."

Terra was surprised by the offer. "Are you sure? That's very generous of you."

"Don't worry about it!" Relm insisted. "We know this area like the backs of our hands!"

"Relm," Strago interjected, "you stay here."

The artist looked annoyed by that. "What? Why?!"

Strago shook his head. "You're still young. And your powers aren't constant, yet. If things go wrong and your magic fails you at the _worst_ time..."

"That's not fair!" Relm protested. "You're getting old! Your magic's not a constant, either!"

"That's different," Strago argued. "My powers work - they're just not as strong. I know what my limits are." He swept his coins off the table, dropping them back through the domed head of his staff. "Stay here, keep up with your painting. It's looking good." But these... Roku... don't sound like they're in any state to be mindful of strangers. I don't want you getting hurt."

Relm huffed. "Fine," she grumbled. "But I get the puppy."

Everyone present turned to Shadow and Interceptor.

"Okay, _no_," Shadow snapped. "He eats strangers. And besides, I'm leaving. Interceptor comes with me."

"What are going for?" Locke asked.

"I'm only with you guys because you needed the manpower," the mercenary reminded. "Now that you have a hand, I'm gonna join up with the Generals. Help them search the forest." He got to his feet. "Don't call Leo unless you find the Roku. I won't mention the caves - there's always the possibility that they're not there. Come on, Interceptor."

A moment of quiet; then Shadow glanced to the floor to find that there was no dog there.

Strago turned to where Relm had been to find the girl had vanished.

"Did she just take your dog?" the old man asked.

"How the hell...?" Shadow sounded legitimately confused. "_Interceptor!_"

The dog came down the stairs with Relm. "I don't know what you're talking about," she argued. "He's friendly."

Locke scratched the back of his head. "He packs a knife," he murmured.

Shadow's gaze went to the floor, and he was quiet for a moment; then he turned to the dog. "Interceptor, let's go."

He left the building; Interceptor gave one more bark in Relm's direction before following suit.

* * *

Draco: Okay! You guys probably saw part of this coming when I had Relm in Jidoor, but here's hoping something about this is pleasantly surprising.


	39. Aggressive Blue Magic

Draco: Ugh, okay. Chocolate drink followed by lukewarm cola - not good combo.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Aggressive Blue Magic**

"So, where did the name 'Triple Caves' come from?"

Terra, Locke, and Strago had arrived at the cavern - with Strago leading the way the whole trip. His hobbling in Thamasa seemed to be a simple ruse; the old man had more energy than both of his guests combined. At Terra's question, the Yasha only turned to her with a pensive gaze. "Are you familiar with the legend of the Warring Triad?" he inquired.

"I can't say I am," Terra admitted.

"What is that?" Locke asked.

Strago sighed. "They say that ages before any clash between mankind and monsterdom, they saw each other as one and lived amongst one another. But then monsters began to war amongst themselves, and humans realized just how far beyond them that monsters were. And ever since then, they have been persecuted." He shook a single coin from his staff, rolling it in his hand. "The greatest and last of those wars amongst monsters was the War of the Triad. Three Yasha - all of them powerful beyond anyone's imagination. They summoned beasts, and recruited monsters, and transformed their bodies with their magic... and they each commanded an army the likes of which had never been seen before, and has never been seen since."

He raised his gaze to the cavern - it was rather nondescript, in all honesty. "In time, however, they realized what they had done. They quieted their armies - and any who would not be quieted were silenced forever. And once they were certain that their war would not resume, they cast their magic. They forged a place for monsters to hide if the need might arise to be hidden, and they set one another's flesh into stone, each with the single greatest of their warriors. And their life, now that their bodies are motionless forever, keeps that place safe."

At this point, Strago tossed his coin into the cave - the clatter echoing deeply.

"This cave, they say, was where they met when they realized the error of their ways. The force still resonating from three Yasha so powerful, as they met in calm amidst a war, dissuades humans from entering this place. And so, it acts as refuge for monsters. A human who can fight off the fear, and walk into the shadows of this cave, has more courage than a Nosferatu."

"Asura _damn_ it," Locke muttered.

Terra paused for a moment at his comment; then she closed her eyes, her hair moving in a wind that was not there. "I can feel someone in there," she mused. "Maybe multiple someones. But... the presence is everywhere."

"That would be the resonance," Strago observed. "It echoes about, and masks any presences that might be inside. The only way to know if your Roku - or _anyone_ \- is in here is to go in and check."

A heavy sigh emerged from Terra as her hair stopped moving and her eyes opened. "Of course it wouldn't be so simple."

Locke and Strago headed inside, first; then Terra gave the surrounding area a brief sweep. She couldn't see anyone around, but nonetheless she called out to the empty area.

"He's going to get mad if you keep following."

Then she started in after them.

+x+x+x+

They were halfway through the cave when things started going wrong.

A massive, spacious cavern with two ledges and a deep, dark drop. There was a long, aged wooden bridge on either side of a massive circular stone platform, which seemed to be a pillar from below ground flat. There were three golden statues in the room; one to the left on their side, one to the left on the other side, and one to the right between the two. Upon seeing the area, Strago glanced around. "Hmm. That's odd."

"What's odd?" Locke asked.

"Those statues," Strago replied. "They're supposed to be in the middle. There are handholds along the walls. Why are the statues in the way?"

Terra leaned her head back. "Oh, no."

Locke turned to her. "What?"

"They must have expected someone to come here," Terra realized. Pointing to the central stone; "That's a perfect battlefield. The second someone walks on, they fight, retreat, or fall."

"Why not just knock them off the handholds on the walls?" Locke argued.

"Because they want a fight, not a cheap shot," Strago countered. He shook the coins out of the head of his staff before sliding it into his belt. "Let me go first."

Terra turned to him. "What?"

"I can handle myself," the old man insisted. "And besides, it's better you see what we're dealing with."

He set one foot onto the wooden bridge.

And it _broke right through_, leaving him slamming to his stomach on the surface.

Strago groaned, setting his empty hand on the surface. "Old piece of Mulch," he protested. "I keep telling everyone we ought to come in here and make this thing a little sturdier, but _no_, it's _fine!_ Even just replacing the wood with new stuff would be fine!"

"That _is_ new wood."

The voice from the other end of the cave caused everyone to raise their gaze as a figure stepped onto the other ledge. He was large and muscled, with messy hair of bright white and a muscled torso with a prominent tan. He wore a pair of long leggings that looked like they belonged on a suit, leaving both his chest and his feet bare.

"Or... Wait..." He glanced at his nearest bridge and leaned his weight against it. "No, this side's the new wood. We were about to start on that side when we heard you coming. There's so much echo in this place it's hard to tell where anything's coming from."

"Agreed," Strago admitted. Turning to Locke; "Would you help me up?"

The treasure hunter managed to get him out; the old man brushed himself off with one hand before clenching his coins tightly and setting his empty palm against the side of his fist. "You must be one of those Roku."

"Roku?" the man demanded.

"Sorry, that's our fault," Locke apologized. "Residents of Roku Okoku?"

The man hummed. "I rather like that, actually."

Terra nodded. "I thought you might," she admitted, remembering Golem's reaction to the name. "Will you let us across? Or were you the one who prepared the battlefield?"

"Neither, to be honest," the man insisted. "These statues were misplaced when we arrived. But it has been long since last I enjoyed a good fight. If you can sate me, I will allow you to proceed."

"A battle of weapons?" Terra inquired. "Or one of body?"

"Again you ask two of me when my answer is neither," the Roku observed. "I seek a duel with someone of magic."

Strago laughed. "I believe I can acquiesce," he replied.

His hands pulled apart - and his coins rearranged themselves, forming a blade - though not much longer than Locke's knife, and certainly not as long as Terra's swords. His cape began to billow as arcana surged around him, and he held his weapon forward.

The Roku braced his hands at his sides, and his body was wrapped in glowing patterns that made Terra start. _That light...! He's gone through the trial of the Sixth Kingdom!_ She glanced at the old man. _Does Strago even have a chance?_

Strago acted first; a lash of his coin sword forged bubbles of magic in the air, all of them surging towards the man on the other side. The Roku leapt forward, punching the bubbles as they approached and coming off none the worse for it; when one struck him before he could strike it, however, the burst knocked him to the wooden bridge on that side. Strago used the distraction to move forward, hovering just over the surface of his bridge (the build of which he didn't trust to break on him again) and landing on the platform in the middle as the Roku got up.

A burst of power ripped up around the old Yasha; a ring of light quickly surrounded him with a flick of his coins, however, and cancelled out the attack as he raised the weapon to his opponent. Sound emerged from nowhere, throwing him off-balance just long enough for Strago to pop a chunk out of the ledge on the Roku's other side; the stone flew forward, slamming into the back of his head and knocking him onto the platform.

With Strago at one edge and the Roku on the other, Locke could see what Terra meant in calling the pillar a perfect battlefield - there was room for a slug monster to stand between the two and still give them room to breathe. The combatants' conditions were in contrast to the battle's flow, however; despite being yet to take a hit, Strago was panting pretty heavily, and the Roku looked no worse for wear than when he had begun.

It was then that footsteps from their side of the cave caused everyone to turn, and Strago fumed when he saw an artist rush into the open cave.

"Relm!" Forgetting the fight, he lifted himself over the gap and down in front of her. "I thought I told you to stay home!"

"I can't just let you go trekking through the Triple Caves by yourself when there's a bunch of strangers in here!" she snapped. "Look at you, you're already wiped out and you haven't even taken a hit!"

"I'm _fine_," Strago insisted.

"No, you're not _fine!_" Relm reprimanded. "Give me that!" She grabbed the coin sword from his hands, flipping it in the air before grabbing it in one hand and turning to the Roku, who was watching the scene with amusement. "If you're gonna fight, don't go picking on an old man!"

The Roku threw his hands up irritably. "He's the one who insisted on fighting!" he protested, pointing at Strago. "And he was surprisingly _eager_ about it! I would have taken either of these two if they know how to cast!"

"Well that makes things easier."

A crack of ice caused everyone to turn to Terra as a spiral of frost gathered before her; she lashed her hand forward, throwing the ice at the Roku with surprising speed. Only a quick punch full of magic stopped it from slamming into him full-force, and the frosty mist of its breakage prevented him from seeing Terra backflip forward through the air; he hardly avoided a full-contact blow from a kick packed with voltage (and he _still_ got a static charge) as Terra landed before him.

She held one hand forward, palm skyward.

She held one hand skyward, palm forward.

The Roku looked like he was ready to fight when the last of the mist faded, revealing her jade hair in its ponytail.

"Wait a moment..." He lowered his fists, standing straight with a thoughtful look on his face. "Are you... Madeline's kid?"

Terra's stance faltered. "You knew my mother?" she asked.

A laugh from the man. "There isn't a 'Roku' who didn't," he admitted.

One hand went forward, and Terra was prepared to retaliate before she realized it was being offered to shake.

"The name's Yura. I'm a friend of your dad."

+x+x+x+

Yura led them through the Triple Cave, speaking with Terra the whole time. He had been friends with Maduin since they were young boys, from whom he was introduced to the Sixth Kingdom's trial. Terra was justifiably shocked to hear that he had undergone the trial as a result of a _drunken dare_, and _before he had sobered up_ what's more, although he insisted his only regret was how sore he was the next morning.

Before long, they reached a large, open cave, whereupon Terra found herself looking upon an array of familiar faces - and a few familiar wings. Yura called out to get their attention as he stepped forward, and the dancer suddenly found herself very _nervous_ upon receiving the gazes of the Roku as Yura turned to face her.

"Terra Branford," he greeted, "meet the Fenrir squadron, of whom I am leader."

Locke glanced around. "You guys got a werewolf?"

Yura scoffed. "Of course not," he reprimanded.

This got him a confused gaze from the treasure hunter. "Then... why do you call yourselves the Fenrir squadron?" he asked.

"Because we don't have a werewolf," Yura replied.

Relm stepped forward. "Wait, what?"

"Anyone who knows their mythology or is learned in Norse knows that Fenrir is a wolf," the leader explained. "Therefore, if they hear of a 'Fenrir squadron' from a monstrous community, they anticipate a group of werewolves. Or at least one werewolf. And that is why we chose the name Fenrir for this squad - because we do not have a werewolf. The name comes from its _lack_ of connection."

Strago clicked his tongue. "That is genius," he observed.

A girl stepped forward - a siren in white whose face reminded Terra of Seraph. "For what reason have you come here?" she asked of the dancer.

"We want to know something," Terra asked. "The attack on the Imperial capital of Vector. Why did you do it?"

"Is that not the reason for which you called us from Roku Okoku?" Yura asked. "To fight the Gestahlian Empire?"

"Yes," Terra admitted, "we did - but you did not do anything to the Empire. You attacked the civilian regions of the city, when there was clearly a massive palace at one end of the city. And you stopped in the middle of things. Why?"

The siren lowered her gaze. "Why, indeed," she agreed. "I don't know what came over me. When we passed through the gate, something... caught my mind. Something I didn't understand. Everything went wild. I knew what I was doing... but I didn't realize what was wrong until we had already..."

The other Roku behind her had likewise gained an interest in the floor of the cave.

Yura shook his head. "We should have prepared for this," he scolded himself. "Maduin always told me - the transition from Roku Okoku to the human world seems no different from walking through any other entryway. But the magic affects your mind. Dulls any sense of precision. And the gate would only make it last longer. If you know what you want to do, you act on the quickest way to do it. No wonder the elder was always watching the doorway when he would leave - he wanted to avoid any dangers on this end. I don't know how he averted it. I never asked..."

Terra remembered her parents' memories of Gestahl's attack on Roku Okoku - how Maduin had gone through the doorway with a flaming kick to a soldier's chest, and proceeded to beat away bullets with his swords. "I'm not sure, either..." she admitted.

The siren stepped forward again. "You're here for a reason," she observed. "Something more than just information. Tell us what that reason is."

"...Sylph, correct?" Terra knew now where she had seen this girl - in Madeline's memories.

Her address caught Sylph - for Terra was right - off-guard. "Do you know me?"

"My mother did," Terra replied. "I think you'd like to know that Seraph is alright, as are the others who were taken prisoner by Gestahl's army." Everyone stepped back as she turned to Yura. "Emperor Gestahl has called ceasefire - and sworn on Feymarch's royalty that monsters will not be harmed. If any of you would please meet with General Cristophe..."

"I'll go," Yura insisted. "As the squadron's leader, I ought speak with him on equal terms."

Sylph stepped forward as well. "I'll go, too," she insisted. "I want to see Seraph again."

Terra bit her lip. "Seraph isn't with us," she admitted. "The other Roku stayed on our airship near Vector."

"_Roku?_" the Fenrir squadron demanded at once.

Locke tried to decide between apologizing or remaining quiet. His decision was interrupted by an agreeing murmur of approval.

Sylph only nodded. "It's alright. I can fly back. I'll be fine on my own."

Yura shrugged, turning to the other Roku. "Will anyone else come with me to meet with this General?"

+x+x+x+

The _entire Fenrir squadron_ ended up following Terra, Locke, Strago, and Relm out of the cave. Sylph took off once they were out, soaring towards the Vector region; the rest of them headed for Thamasa, with Locke calling Leo and asking him to meet them at the village. Upon arrival, Strago quickly made his way to the mayor's house, explaining the situation; after a brief argument, the residents of Thamasa quickly retreated inside.

Leo and Celes arrived before too long (Shadow and Interceptor had apparently taken off when they had received Locke's call). The Fenrir squadron had hidden in Strago's house, along with him and Relm, as Terra and Locke spoke with the Imperials. A few moments of discussion; then Terra signalled for Yura and the others to come out. Everyone had subsided their transformations, and as Leo watched, Yura approached him directly.

"General Cristophe, of the Gestahlian army, I presume?" Yura asked.

"You presume correct," Leo confirmed. "Might I have your name?"

"I am Yura," the Roku replied. "I... On behalf of the Fenrir squadron before you, I would like to apologize for what we have done to your people. We were not in our right minds. I acknowledge that that is no excuse, but..."

Leo only shook his head. "On the contrary," he insisted. "What you have done is nothing more than what should be expected, given what _we_ have done to _your_ people. To your _kind_. We did not seek you out to chastise you for your past mistakes; it is _we_ who ought be ashamed."

He offered his hand to Yura. "If you are willing, I would like that we put that war behind us, and meet one another as equals - and see that both our kinds do the same."

Yura only smiled. "I am quite willing - and I am sure the people of Roku Okoku would agree."

He reached for Leo's hand, intending to shake it.

"_Wow_, that was an _amazingly_ **corny** exchange. Con_gra_tu**la**tions!"

The mad voice caused everyone to turn - where they saw a familiar man in clown's garb at the edge of town.

And the roar of an engine drew their gazes heavenward, where a Gestahlian airship flew.

* * *

Draco: Oh, what cruelty. What utter cruelty.


	40. Ascension of a Madman

Draco: Alright, I believe we're getting close enough to the endgame that I shouldn't have any trouble with naming chapters. Finally, Kefka's track gets on!

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Ascension of a Madman**

Sylph had arrived at the airspace over Vector before too long. Remembering Terra's words that Seraph would be in an airship near the city, she looked around and caught sight of something black and gold; she quickly soared towards it, landing on the earth nearby. There was a boarding plank extended from below deck, and slowly, she made her way up it. She was thoroughly confused to see what looked like a _casino_, and carefully stepped inside with a nervous "Hello?"

A blade was raised to her neck.

Her gaze went towards the hilt and found a familiar head of green hair.

"Maduin?"

The swordsman was quiet for a moment; then he recognized the face. "Sylph!" he exclaimed. "How are you...? You were in the Fenrir squadron?"

"Yes," Sylph confirmed. "Your daughter told me everyone was here. Where's Seraph?"

"She's in the hold," Madun replied. "She'll be glad to see you."

Seraph was _indeed_ glad to see her sister; the two of them shared a rather tearful embrace upon seeing one another. Maduin made his way out to give them some time - and was interrupted when Zona ran into him, causing him to stumble back in. "Ow..."

"Maduin!" Zona exclaimed. Speaking at a speed more befitting his species; "I just saw an Imperial airship lift out of Vector. It's faced the direction of Crescent Island. Where the hell is Setzer?"

"He left for Vector to get some supplies," Maduin rushed, realizing just now how _stupid_ it had been to let the only one with a cell phone take off. "_Shit_. We gotta get topside. All of us. Get everyone!"

Zona vanished; Maduin led the siren sisters up onto the deck. The airship was indeed facing Crescent Island, although it was rising straight up first. "Okay, _damn it_," the swordsman muttered. "Seraph, can you fly me up there? I think I can raise enough hell to stop whatever they're planning if I can get above it."

"Don't."

Everyone turned to see the others had arrived. _Phantom_ was standing forward, his gaze on the airship, and in his hand was a massive coil of what looked like wire of some sort. He handed the end to Seraph, who accepted it dumbfoundedly, before pointing to the Imperial vessel. "Link," he mandated.

The siren nodded, taking off towards the vessel. He quickly set it on the deck and took one of Maduin's swords to trap it there, letting it spin freely. He held one hand to either side, and after a confused moment, Maduin and Zona took his hands, and Seraph and Golem took theirs, and Kirin and Sylph took theirs. When Seraph connected the line with the airship, the coil stopped turning - or rather, it stopped turning so quickly, as the airship's continued ascent meant it kept rolling.

Phantom glanced at the others. "This might sting."

Then he stepped on the cord - and his body, and the bodies of _everyone linked with him_, turned into raw voltage. The charge travelled up the wire, and before long the six of them had re-materialized atop the airship's hull.

Seraph quickly landed nearby as they released one another's hands. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Sort off," Kirin admitted.

"Alright," Maduin insisted. "You guys, wait here. I'm gonna find out what's going on. If things go bad, I'll light a fire at the stern." He pointed towards the back of the ship. "Then you leap in and raise some hell."

At that, he turned to a hatch on top of the airship, pulled it open, and leapt in.

He quickly found himself surrounded by men. None of them wore a Gestahlian uniform or insignia, but all of them were holding machine guns that Maduin recognized as the Empire's - and he had every reason to believe they were readied with 'Bahamut'. All of the weapons were levelled on him, and after a moment one of the men demanded, "How the hell did you get up here?"

"Has your Emperor broken his vow so readily?" he demanded. Already he had lit the fire towards the stern, keeping it running on pure willpower.

Another man scoffed. "Nothing of the sort," he insisted. "We've all been fired."

The men all set their fingers on the triggers of their weapons.

"Which means the Emperor's vow doesn't mean _shit_."

A sudden weight broke his concentration, and Maduin slammed to the floor as someone in robes landed on him; everyone pulled their triggers and hit _another man with a gun_. When the weight on the triggers broke, the ex-soldiers were all dead; and Zona pulled Maduin to his feet as the other five jumped down.

"Alright," Maduin insisted. "That happened faster than I expected. Deal with as much of these guys as you can. I'm gonna find the captain."

"Sounds like a plan," Zona agreed.

+x+x+x+

He found the helm of the ship before too long.

It certainly didn't _look_ like a helm. Everything was buttons and screens - the windshield only faced forward, there were displays on the sides. To Maduin's dismay, there wasn't anyone there, either - the ship seemed to be automated. Concerned, he stepped inside, reaching for his swords as he did so.

He was halfway across when the door slammed behind him, and he turned to see a man in bright colours, with a painted face, standing there.

"You didn't think I had to stand there and run this thing, did you?" Kefka protested. "I mean, come _on_. That would get **so**_boring_ **so**_ fast._"

"The madman," Maduin observed. "A clown borne of Pandaemonium." He drew his swords. "My daughter tells me that your strikes bore power, when she fought you at Narshe. Power beyond anyone she had fought before. And Chere informed me that you had a penchant for burning things - despite never carrying flint, nor lighter. And that tells me that you are one of Gestahl's ghouls - and it is my blood that runs through your veins."

Kefka grinned. "Let me guess," he taunted. "You want to know why I'm taking a bunch of fired soldiers to Crescent, huh?"

Maduin shook his head. "You can tell me after I kick your ass," he insisted.

"Oh, this oughta be good," Kefka observed. He kicked the ground, and a slot on the wall to his right opened; something shot out that Kefka grabbed in his left hand and switched to his right, and Maduin realized it was the war mace he had been swinging in the cave to Roku Okoku. "Come on, show me whatcha got! Bring it on! Come on!"

The yoko only gave him a smirk. "You know something?"

Kefka chuckled. "What?"

"Tails are _complicated_."

The strange statement wiped the smile off Kefka's face - or rather, it caused him to stop smirking, for his paint was unaffected. "...What."

"Have you ever tried to _make_ a tail?" Maduin asked him. "It's _stupid_ difficult. I have _no idea_ how nature pulls that off. They're too _flexible_ for it all to be one piece, and yet they're _sturdy_ enough that you can't just make it something limp. I swear, every cell of muscle in a tail has to be a _different muscle_, and the bones must be the size of _ants_."

Kefka set the head of his mace on the ground, leaning against the base of the handle confusedly. "Are you trying to say you hate being a yoko?" he asked.

Maduin hummed lightly. "No," he admitted. "I don't think I do, at any rate. I love it, warts and all. I mean, we're just a step down from Nosferatu in terms of power, and even werewolves can't outrun fire. _Nothing_ is _faster_ than _fire_."

The clown pointed at him. "And the tails?"

The Roku chuckled lightly.

"I can never get them right."

A flame blazed underneath him, causing Kefka to stumble back - and slowly, that flame started to rise up around him.

"I try to make it look like I'm shooting them in one direction for show," Maduin insisted, "but there's always someone who isn't convinced. They give me this look that screams 'Come on. Why are you faking it? Do you not have any, or something?' One time I was actually _asked_, 'What kind of kitsune doesn't have a tail?'"

The flames crossed his waist, jumping to his arms before continuing up his torso.

"And I told him, I said 'You don't get to grow a tail'..."

His swords were unaffected as the flames neared his face.

"...'when your first transformation is _thick with arcana_'."

The last of his hair vanished in the blaze.

And the inferno turned _hot pink_, the heat intensifying enough to start warping Kefka's face paint. The clown raised his mace as the flesh within the flames began to burn away in a vibrant white nova - though his grip on his swords remained as firm as ever.

**'But it makes you stronger than anything with less than _nine_'.**

One sword was raised before him, so he was peering down the blade.

The other was raised at his side, at an angle just heavenward.

**Now, showtime.**

+x+x+x+

The sight of _Kefka Palazzo_, standing at the entrance to Thamasa, was a horrible sight on its own - but with the airship hovering above the city, Terra realized she had underestimated Gestahl's ambition. In an instant, she drew her Flametongue and Icebrand, and she set her feet perpendicular as she would to dance as she braced them at her sides. "Kefka!" she snapped. "What are you doing here?"

Leo and Celes drew their own swords as Kefka stepped forward. "What do you _think_ I'm doing here?" he yelled. "I came to take a look at your little _rokudenashi_ friends!"

"What the hell is this?!" Leo demanded. "We're here on orders of ceasefire!"

Celes braced her shield before her. "Is Gestahl's ambition so desperate that he would let himself die on his promise no sooner than he's made it!?"

Kefka scoffed. "Oh, please!" he reprimanded. "Nobody's that stupid. He was pissed about my trick at Doma with Ifrit's hindquarters!"

He hooked his hands behind his back and leaned forward.

"Dishonourable discharge."

Terra's eyes widened in horror as she realized how many loopholes Gestahl had left in his sacred vow.

Kefka threw his hands up; and from the airship above Thamasa dropped four of what Leo realized were _crawler model Magitek Armour_. Spider legs and earthward beam ports did wonders for letting the mechs surviving the landings; each mech was occupied by a man who had once been a soldier, and the moment each one landed, they fired their beams at a different building.

One of them was Strago's house.

"Shit!" Locke shouted.

Terra turned to the building. "Strago! Relm!" She dashed forward, leaping through the window blade-first.

Locke and Celes quickly charged the mechs, Locke's feet blading to boost his speed. They managed to knock one guy out of his mech before Kefka hopped in the cockpit and kicked them with the legs, throwing them through a window in the biggest house in town - which was _also_ alight.

The sound of a sword being scraped against the ground caused him to turn. Leo was standing there, the tip of his sword set against the earth. Amused, Kefka hopped out of the crawler's cockpit. "You think you're gonna take me on?" he taunted. "You, the Lord of the Blade! You're _nothing!_ You're _useless!_ You never got a shot of blood! You _refused outright!_ What are _you_ gonna do to me, huh!?"

Leo sucked in a heavy breath, and then loosed it.

"I never told Emperor Gestahl. How could I? With that rumor going around Vector about the end of the war in his childhood? He would never believe me. Or he would have me executed for failing the sole mission of this whole campaign. I could never tell him that I entreated with a monster in Tzen. That I convinced that monster that men were not all warmongers."

His hand went into his longcoat.

"And in return, that monster gave me something. Something I could use to stop _madmen like you._"

Then his hand came out - and Kefka was horrified to see a _syringe_ in his hands, and watch Leo raise it to his neck.

"I'll only have a minute, at most. But a minute should be enough to stop you..."

The needle was driven into his neck, and the plunger was pressed.

"...with the power of the _Nosferatu._"

He groaned as the blood shot through his veins; the moment the syringe was empty, he pulled it out, letting it fall to the earth and shatter - and Kefka saw the air around him _warp_, his hair paling and his eyes flooding with crimson.

"Asura... _damn_ it..."

He turned the Flametongue in his hand, igniting it with a press of the hilt; then he hurled it towards the nearest mech, the hot blade searing through it effortlessly. His aim was the fuel tank, and the explosion sent his sword flying back at him; he quickly grabbed it out of the air and threw it at the next one, sending it through the pilot's back and into the control panel. Kefka screeched, rushing towards Leo with his war mace in hand; but Leo only grabbed the weapon before it could strike him and yanked it out of Kefka's hands with enough force to throw the clown over his body. The heavy mace was hurled at the last mech with enough force to knock it over, crushing the pilot under the mech's weight; then Leo charged towards Kefka.

The clown turned in time to get Leo's fist to his jaw.

And amidst the fury of blood that was not his, Leo was _horrified_ to see Kekfa's flesh _bend under his punch_, rippling out like soft dough.

He stumbled back as Kefka turned to him, his face slowly shifting back.

"That... actually _stung_ a little."

His hand went forward and grabbed Leo by the face.

And _voltage ripped through the General_ as the blood wore off, his cries of pain echoing across Thamasa before Kefka threw him aside.

The roars of the Fenrir squadron caused Kefka to turn as they charged towards him. Yura had turned _huge_, both hands going for Kefka with intention to tear him apart; the clown only lashed his hands to the side, sending flames tearing across the troll's face and into his eyes. A succubus flew forward as vines ripped out of the earth around Kefka; he only closed his eyes and chuckled, letting the illusions bounce off of him effortlessly, before grabbing the succubus and snapping her claws in his hands, kicking her to the ground while she was still screaming. A slug monster writhed forward, gas pumping from his every orifice - the clown only set the gas alight, burning him from the inside without hardly lifting a finger. A pair of lizardmen charged forward, trying to bite him apart; Kefka only punched both of them with enough voltage to light a city, causing them to hit the ground twitching.

A twisted chuckle from the clown as he relished in how easy it was to ruin these monsters.

Then he slammed his hands to the ground, and magic lit up on the earth, massive patterns that shone with arcana, consuming the monsters that lay there.

Terra had just gotten out of the building with Strago and Relm - and she could do nothing but _watch_ as the Fenrir squadron vanished in his magic, leaving Kefka Palazzo standing there.

Then the madman screeched in victory, leaping into the air with more force than anything should be able to leap; and as she watched, he landed on the airship with enough force to cause it to tumble. A moment's pause; then the vessel took off southerly.

In the direction of Roku Okoku.

+x+x+x+

"You're late, Kefka."

Gestahl stood before the sealed pillar of Roku Okoku, his hands closed behind his back. Kefka's footsteps were uneven as he stepped into the cave, and as the Emperor turned he saw the jester stumbling like a drunk. His body was _writhing_ under his clown garb, and his eyes kept twitching.

"You can't... say I'm _late_, Gestahl," Kefka reminded him, his head twitching to the sides and stopping his words from flowing smoothly. "You... discharged me. You can't... follow my... order me around... anymore."

The Emperor realized what was going on. "You initiated a Merge?" he demanded.

"No!" Kefka protested.

His tongue twitched out before the syllable was finished, and Gestahl could see it was long and serpentine, prompting a raised eyebrow.

"It's all susp... suspen... on hold until... we get through," the jester insisted. "Let's just...!" He stumbled forward. "Let's do this... thing already."

Gestahl had put surveillance in this cave from the moment the doorway had been disabled, and had observed the footage when Kefka had reported the pillar having done something. "Hand on the center, six steps out, one to the side. Out hand forward, in hand held still."

Kefka tumbled his way to the gate, slamming into the stone seal and making sure he was lined up with the middle. His left hand touched the middle of it, and he turned round, stepping _very carefully_ to make sure he wasn't off course. Once he had taken six such careful steps, he took one more to the left and then turned round, raising his right hand. Magic lit up below him - massive patterns, two circles in the middle.

And Emperor Gestahl flung his regalia from his body, revealing spell papers to wrap his flesh - every one glowing with arcana from the last war between mankind and monsterdom.

He stepped onto the empty circle, and raised his left hand to the gate.

And the cavern began to _quake_.

+x+x+x+

"Another bridge?"

Haku Ryu was understandably surprised when Kujata reported that someone was trying to bridge the void again. "This is odd... has he already stopped them from interfering this time?" He turned to Kujata. "We answer the bridge on our own. I don't want to risk being interrupted again. Sylph barely made it out."

Kujata bowed. "Sir."

The two of them made their way to the cave where the gate arrived. Without hesitation, they both stepped onto the circles of the patterns on the floor of the cave, raising their hands towards the patterns on the wall; and that wall began to pull itself open, a blinding light surging through.

When the light faded, both of them were horrified to see who was there.

Emperor Gestahl, and a painted-faced clown.

Both of them released their magic immediately, stepping off the circles, and the gate began to close again. Emperor Gestahl threw his hands forward, setting a magical force between the halves of the gate; Kefka quickly charged forward, slamming one punch into the portion of the gate that held the center. The stone _shattered,_ pieces flying into Roku Okoku, and he promptly kicked the other half of the gate to shatter it; Gestahl had to step aside to stop from getting struck by them. Kujata lashed a hand forward, voltage flying into Kefka's flesh; the madman only walked forward through the storm before kicking him in the knee and setting his flesh alight.

A gleam of blade caused him to turn as Haku Ryu lashed his blade into the madman's head.

The moment the blade was through, the two pieces began to grip themselves back together, sealing back on as he stumbled back, and the _Nosferatu_'s spirits fell.

"You know," Kefka protested, "it's getting _really_ hard to keep this thing suspended."

Then a blast of magic caught the elder in the back, and he was thrown past Kefka as Gestahl stepped into the community.

"I do believe this is my first time here. Won't you be a host and show me around?"

* * *

Draco: Who did you think was enchanting those cards in the Magitek Armour? Kefka?


	41. Meditations on an Apocalypse

Draco: Alright, everything from this point on is planned a dozen times over and you all know roughly how this goes. Let's have some fun.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Meditations on an Apocalypse**

They knew what was going to happen - but they couldn't leave a dead man to rot.

Leo Cristophe was given a proper burial in Thamasa. Nobody was quite certain what to say, but those who knew him enough to say anything had already said enough. So he was led to Arubboth in silence, set into the earth and flowers set upon him. Terra was elected to carve his grave.

_Here lies Leo Cristophe  
General of the Gestahlian Imperial Army  
And a far better man  
Than any of them have ever deserved_

+x+x+x+

The _Blackjack_ arrived outside Thamasa as Terra, Locke, and Celes were about to leave. The residents rushed to arms, but Terra stayed their hands, insisting that they were friends. Setzer made his way into town on his own - whereupon Celes put a Thunderblade to his neck.

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

"They launched while I was getting supplies to fix the _Blackjack_," Setzer insisted. "When I got back, the Roku were gone and there was an empty coil of wire sitting on the deck." He glanced around. "Are they not here?"

Celes lowered her blade. "...Merged," she murmured.

"_Merged_?" Setzer exclaimed. "You mean... _Kefka_-?!"

Locke grabbed Celes' shoulder, causing her to turn. "First you pull that mist trick on the ship," he observed, "and now Kefka can do a witch's Merge? What the hell does the Empire do to you when they make you ghouls?"

The ex-General didn't bother reprimand him for watching her and Terra on the ship; she only sheathed her sword with a sigh. "...It's a concoction," she insisted. "Monstrous blood, and ground witch's hairs. They do it to give us more versatility. Kefka and I were the only ones they ever did."

"Why?" Setzer asked.

"Kefka was the first one," Celes explained. "But it warped his mind. I _think_ the reports said he was _sane_ before the procedure. They implanted an onyx enchanted with magic somewhere on his body so he'd always have a magic object on him, since he couldn't be trusted to keep carrying something. Then they did me. When I was still a child. I think they hoped a female body might react better with the witch's hairs. And they gave me snowgirl blood to go with it. And it _did_ work, but only because I _was_ a child. And they didn't have the resources to babysit ghouls. So they called the project off, and turned to using magic on machines."

"Magitek Armour," Locke realized. "Those cards in the mechs...!"

Celes nodded. "Exactly. They set magic-patterned cards into the bodies of the machines while they're still in assembly, and then enchant them once they're complete. It makes them more versatile than they could be if it was just tech."

Setzer shook his head. "So Kefka's gone and Merged with the Roku. That's dangerous. Anyone know where he's gone?"

"Roku Okoku."

Everyone turned at Terra's words. "What in the world could he want with Roku Okoku?" Setzer asked. "He swore his soldiers-!"

"He _discharged_ all his soldiers!" Terra shouted suddenly. "And then he gave them access to an airship and Magitek Armour, and he told them where to find monsters! And now he's gone to find out what the _hell_ is keeping that village hidden!"

She turned to Strago. "And I think I know what that is."

The Yasha was horrified. "The Warring Triad...! He couldn't be so mad...!"

Setzer was confused. "Warring Triad? What the hell is-?"

Terra raised a hand to stop him. "Not now," she mandated. "We need to get to the cave. Let's get on the _Blackjack_, you can get the story on the way." A glance towards Strago and Relm. "Er... Would you two like to join us?"

Strago stepped forward. "Of course I'm coming," he insisted. "I won't let the Empire get away with any more of this madness."

Relm stepped up to his side. "And I'm coming, too!" she insisted. "Someone has to mind this old man!"

Terra nodded. "Thank you, both of you."

Then she turned back around, stepping past Setzer quickly.

"I'm driving."

+x+x+x+

"You are _never driving again_."

Terra had realized, upon seeing Kefka Merge the Fenrir squadron, what had happened to her father. Consequently, she was... in a state. Being as she was in a state, she was intent on getting to Roku Okoku as soon as possible, in hopes of stopping as much of Gestahl's plans as she could - and in that intent, she had not considered that Setzer, having arrived because Kefka had taken off and not of his own volition, may not have repaired the _Blackjack_ enough to handle everything it could do normally.

Such as, for example, _a nearly horizontal takeoff in sixth gear._

Something in the engines that happened on that takeoff meant that the airship couldn't turn left - cranking to the left simply meant that the ship was _almost_ going straight. Only very quickly bringing it to climb stopped them from slamming into the Triple Caves, and after a few helpless laps, Terra had figured out how to tighten their turns at the right time so that they were above the Cave to the Sealed Gate, whereupon it was a simple matter to land the ship. That trip was still more than enough for Strago to tell the others about the Warring Triad, and everyone was _horrified_ upon realizing that that was Gestahl's intention.

After Terra came down with the _Blackjack_ landed (and Setzer reprimanded her for her reckless takeoff), Celes turned to the gambler. "So," she asked, "do I get in on your old-school spy game?"

Setzer raised an eyebrow. "Is that really necessary?" he inquired.

"If we get separated, they're going to try and stop us from meeting back up," Strago insisted, who had heard about the 'old-school spy game' from Locke and Terra on their way to the Triple Caves. "The use of callsigns will make it harder for them to tell who is talking to who. _Any_ delay will make things easier."

"Alright," Setzer replied. "I'll get you earpieces. Pick out your callsigns."

Celes rolled her eyes. "Call me Lady Frost."

Setzer turned round before he had even taken a step. "That's a bit counter-productive," he protested. "You couldn't think of something a little more... subtle?"

"To hell with subtlety," Celes insisted. "I want Gestahl to know he's fighting the Lady of the Frost."

"The simplicity of it should be enough to throw that madman off," Strago admitted.

The gambler shook his head, heading back to get the earpieces.

"Alright," Locke mused. "Strago?"

The old man hummed. "I'll be... Blue Wizard," he replied.

There was a series of confused hums.

"It's an old story by men who believe monsters are all uncontrollable beasts," he explained, drawing his staff. "An old favourite of mine." He shook a few coins into his hand. "Something to distract them."

Terra nodded. "Sounds good. And... Relm?"

Relm simply reached into her pocket, drawing out a paintbrush - the only one that had survived the fire. "I'll be Angel Brush," she mused.

The dancer chuckled, remembering how the artist had introduced herself as 'Angel' in Jidoor. "I like that," she admitted.

"I _don't_ like that," Sabin argued. "What does that even mean?"

"Does it matter?" Terra protested. "If she can threaten me with a paintbrush, she can call herself _whatever_ she wants."

"Relm!" Strago reprimanded, turning on the artist.

"She came in through the window and cried fire!" Relm defended. "Sue me!"

Setzer came back at this point, tossing the three of them earpieces (Strago almost dropped his). "Alright," he insisted. "Everyone prepared?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's go kick a clown."

+x+x+x+

They found the Sealed Gate blown open.

The link was frozen open, and rubble from the seal lay on either side of the gate. There was already a menacing light that was most definitely _not sunset_ coming from Roku Okoku, and Terra had one hand on her Icebrand as she led the party through the gate.

Someone else caught her empty hand.

Her sword was halfway out its sheath before she realized who it was.

Haku Ryu was all but limp on the ground next to the gate. He was covered in bruises and blood, and his wings were mangled; there was something jutting out of his chest that she realized was the tip of his own katana. No sooner had Terra turned to him than his grip on her hand faded, and his arm fell to the earth. "Terra..."

"Elder!" The dancer knelt at his side. "What...?"

"The madman... in the clown's garb..." The elder coughed, blood spurting from his mouth. "He tried... to Merge me. I managed to... fight it... and he decided... I wasn't... worth the trouble..." He shook his head. "Terra... You have to... get the weapon..."

Terra didn't understand. "Weapon? What weapon? What do you mean?"

"Blows to... the flesh... can't harm him... unless he... is weakened... first..." Haku Ryu managed. "And the... Kingdom's magic... only strengthens... his... twisted form... unless you can... negate... his arcana..."

"Elder, please," Terra insisted, "what weapon?"

The Nosferatu was visibly fighting to keep his eyes open. "Ultima..." he forced out. "One of... only twelve... It was... with Maduin... when we fell back... to the void..." He shook his head. "They must have... taken it... from him..." Another cough of blood. "A blade... of pure force... contained... in something... so... small..."

Terra's eyes widened at the revelation.

"Don't... let him... have... it..."

Then the elder's eyes closed - and Terra was sure they would never open again.

Celes turned towards the cave. "Do you hear that?" she asked.

Locke stepped forward. "Hear... what?" he inquired.

"Nothing," Celes said matter-of-factly.

Cyan groaned. "Damn it, Lady Chere," he reprimanded. "Thou oughtn't frighten us so."

"But that's just _it_," Celes snapped, turning to the samurai. "A monstrous community, fighting _Kefka Palazzo_? It shouldn't _be_ silent!"

Edgar lowered his gaze. "He stops laughing... when there's nothing to fight," he recalled.

"No..." Terra was horrified at the thought.

Setzer scoffed, pulling off his earpiece. "And here I hoped we could sneak by any skirmishes and take him on at the Triad," he mused.

Sabin sighed heavily. "No point in stealth, then," he observed. "Frontal assault?"

Relm nodded. "Yeah. Let's take them on!"

Gau gave an approving cheer.

Strago shook his head. "You're all so violent," he protested.

Terra got to her feet, turning towards the exit to the cave, and took a deep breath before drawing her Icebrand and then her Thunderblade.

+x+x+x+

"So this is the famous Warring Triad..."

Gestahl, still wrapped in spell papers, had found the three petrified beings he had read about at the far end of Roku Okoku, where the village gave way to a massive sunset abyss below, as though the community were set on a stone floating above the world. One was a metal demon, covered in armour with twisted, feathered wings, with a great axe clutched in one hand. One was a writhing fiend, with four great arms and a sunken face and dark, leathered wings from its back. And one was a sinful goddess, scarcely clad in ribbons with massive coins gripped between her fingers, the other hand above her head.

They were trapped in trigram, the goddess facing the village with the demon on her left and the fiend on her right. Their positions were perfect, such that each was exactly the same distance from the other two. Despite their beings, the image was beautiful, and Gestahl was standing there admiring the trio when a madman shouted, "Hey! How much... longer is this... gonna take?!"

The Emperor sighed, turning to see Kefka stumbling towards him. His body was writhing worse than before. "Is the Nosferatu still alive?"

"Doubt it," Kefka admitted. "I didn't... suck him in... though, so... So if... you wanna... suck his blood... now's a... good time. Can I... let this... run yet?" he demanded.

"Unless you want to be _smote_ the moment they are freed," Gestahl replied, "then no. Are you going to release it, or are you going to be silent while I do it?"

"I'll... do it," the clown insisted, tumbling forward. He came to a stop smack-dab in the middle of the Triad, turned away from the goddess, and threw his arms to his sides, going still except for the writhe of his Merge fighting its suspension. Then, with a cheerful screech he swung his hands above his head and lashed his fingers down in front of him, causing a triangle of menacing gold to light up around his feet.

It was oriented such that it didn't touch _any_ of the three petrified figures around him.

Then he yelled angrily, hopped up and stomped the earth with both feet - and the triangle flipped itself around, each point slamming into one of the three. Cracks of gold began to rise across the three figures, and the Emperor grinned upon seeing the power before him.

"Gestahl!"

Then a voice caused him to turn.

There was an old man in a red cape, holding what _almost_ looked like a walking staff.

A young girl with a spotted blue hat was holding a paintbrush braced like a witch's wand.

A man with silver hair stood there in a dark longcoat, holding a hand of cards.

The wild boy from Vector had grown wings, his neck now ridged for sound.

Cyan Garamonde had his wakizashi drawn, and his face had become canine and furred.

The Figaro brothers were both covered in spikes across their shoulders.

Prince Sabin's hands had become menacing scissor claws, braced for martial arts.

King Edgar had a chainsaw in his hands, and spikes across his legs as well.

Locke Cole held his knife like a sword, and each finger of his right hand was a hook, his feet bladed like ice skates.

Celes Chere was holding a Flametongue and a shield of the same gold as her armour, the jewels of which were shining.

And Terra Branford stood with her feet poised to dance, a Thunderblade in her left hand before her and an Icebrand in her right behind her.

The Emperor was surprised; but he simply shook his head, unimpressed. "If you intend to frighten me with a force of numbers," he reprimanded, "I regret to inform you that I will not be backing down from anything less than all of Feymarch at once."

Celes held her shield forward, lashing her Flametongue back. "This ends _now_."

Terra braced her swords at her sides, the tips facing Gestahl. "_Right_ now."

"Indeed it does," Gestahl agreed, his voice carrying a sudden force to it. "The Warring Triad has slept since before men first saw monsters for what they are. They sealed themselves away, intending to sleep forever and keep such vile creatures safe - but now, it is their waking that shall see monsterdom burn, and mankind rise from the ashes they leave behind! It is high time we took our proper place! You borne of Pandaemonium need no longer quarrel to prove yourselves superior to one another - for you shall all be equal when we send you back through Jade Passage!"

The spell papers wrapped around his body began to glow.

"Now, let us strike the first of the sparks!"

He swept his right hand forward, and Celes stepped ahead, thrusting the flat of her shield to counteract the pure shockwave he launched towards them. The blast rippled out around her shield, uprooting trees and shattering rocks. Terra leapt into a flip, throwing a bolt of flame forward, but Gestahl only lashed his left hand to the side, the flame put out from his magic. He raised his right above his head, but Gau only roared, his voice amplified by the siren's form he had taken; the sound was forceful enough to stop Gestahl from casting, and Edgar and Sabin quickly charged forward.

Gestahl kicked towards the monk, sending another shockwave; Sabin only leapt aside, prompting Celes to thrust her shield to counteract it again. Edgar revved his chainsaw, swinging it towards the Emperor; Gestahl raised a hand towards it, causing the machina to grind sparks against something that was not there. Sabin rushed forward with an open-clawed thrust, but this prompted the Emperor to raise his other hand to it, forming another barrier to stop him there. Occupied by both Figaro brothers, Gestahl wasn't prepared for Locke to skate forward, knife in hand. The Emperor was left with no choice but to step back, causing the Figaro brothers to tumble towards one another; Edgar stopped his chainsaw's motor in time for Sabin to grab it safely, and Locke skidded under the two by moments.

This time, when the Emperor launched a kick, it worked; the three monstrels were sent flying back. Gau roared again, catching Gestahl off-guard; then he swung a wing forward, launching razor-sharp feathers. Gestahl managed to sidestep most of them, letting them sink into Kefka ineffectively; then he swung his left hand in a punch that slammed into the wild child from a distance and knocked him to the ground. Relm charged forward, swinging her paintbrush over her head, and voltage gathered in the air around the Emperor; he raised his hands above him, causing the voltage to bounce back in a focused beam that slammed into Relm's brush and sent her tumbling back, unarmed.

Strago lashed his coins out of the head of his staff, letting them tumble into his hand; then he threw them into the air, where they remained suspended and began to glow. With a wave of his staff, the coins shot towards Gestahl, one by one; the Emperor swept his right hand forward to meet each coin, deflecting them into the earth around him. This provided an excellent distraction for Relm to grab a few coins that had missed Strago's grip; a few was enough for her to work her magic, whereupon she froze Gestahl's feet to the earth. This gave Locke an opening to hurl his knife; unfortunately, throwing a knife isn't easy, and all Gestahl had to do was lean to the side - not even enough to stop him from deflecting Strago's coins - and let the blade hit Kefka in the heel.

Setzer hurled a hand of cards, but Gestahl only stopped them at once, letting them fall to the earth. Edgar had drawn his crossbow (from where no one was certain), and quickly drew the lever, nocked a bolt, and fired at the Emperor; Gestal managed to shatter it by deflecting a coin in the right direction, although the pieces tumbled into his arm. Strago was out of coins at this point, prompting him to back away; Sabin quickly charged forward, but Gestahl lashed his left hand upwards, throwing him back and onto his brother before the King had been able to fire his next (already loaded) bolt. Terra lashed a kick into the earth, causing a bolt of fire to race across the surface and slam into his feet; the ice stopped it from blazing farther than his ankles.

His ankles were enough.

The spell papers wrapped around him began to burn away, and the light around them began to fade. Celes quickly flicked the hilt of her Flametongue before hurling it forward, the hot blade tumbling towards the Emperor menacingly.

Gestahl fell to the earth, trying to put out the flames on his papers.

This meant the blade flew over him by millimetres, and instead impaled itself in Kefka's neck.

The clown lashed his head back as the blade entered him, and the ten gathered there realized that the cracks had been almost completely covered in cracks. Slowly, Kefka reached for the sword's handle; his hand brushed against the hilt, causing the blade to cool, and he grabbed it by the pommel. The tear out of his neck began to mend the moment the sword was out, and he threw it back over the Emperor, letting it tumble to the floor at Celes' feet.

Kefka's voice echoed towards them, even as he remained still. "Do. _You. **MIND!?**_" the clown roared, not even turning. "I'm almost done here!"

Gestahl had extinguished his papers, although the damaged had been done - there was no more magic in his wrappings. Nonetheless, he chuckled menacingly, getting to his feet. "You are too little, too late," he warned the gathered monsters. "The moment the Triad is freed, all you have done will have been for naught, and my rule will begin!"

"_You?_"

The smirk wiped itself off Gestahl's face at that single word, and he slowly turned to see Kefka had whirled round to face him. "Are you kidding?" the jester snapped. "I didn't Merge a village full of monsters and kill Leo pumped full of blood and _sit still for three minutes_ just to let _you_ get the prize! _Get out of here!_" His voice had gone dark, and the golden glow from beneath him was covered in necrous black patterns. "I've got so much _shit_ I can do from the power of these bitches that you _can't even imagine_, so go find that old bastard vampire and _suck something!_"

Something ripped out of the back of his garb.

It was a wing.

It was a _feathered wing_, and it _dripped with blood_.

"_Because I'm sick of holding back **while**** you have fun!**_"

Another feathered wing shot out of his back, lower this time, and he lashed his hand forward on that side. A triangle of red lit up under Gestahl's body nearly as large as the one beneath Kefka, and the once-Emperor had no chance to act before _flames slammed onto his flesh from on high,_ causing everyone to leap back; the aged man didn't even have time to scream before the flames consumed his body, and there was nothing to show he had ever been there when the fires faded.

_All of Roku Okoku_ began to tremor.

"And the rest of you can _piss **right off!**_"

Terra stepped back. "Run," she shouted. "_RUN!_"

The group started charging away, but Kefka only lashed his hands to his sides; another wing ripped out of his other side as magic surged out around him, and ten crimson triangles - smaller this time, no larger than one man could stand on - appeared where the group had been, chasing after them. Strago ended up tripping on the rubble of a stone that had been shattered; one of the magic runes slipped under him and expanded, and flames razed over him. Relm had been rushing back to help him, and the sight left her screaming; Gau tried to grab her and fly, intent on moving faster than they could on foot, but a pair of triangles flew under them before he could take off; the artist blazed first, and then the wild boy. Edgar was next, weighted down by his machina, and Sabin blazed after him, trying to vault a fallen tree; Setzer's coat got hooked on a particularly jagged outcrop, stopping him from getting out of the way before another rune flamed him. Locke ended up stumbling when he tried landing off a cave that used to be Maduin's home, finding the landing further than he could manage with his feet bladed; he managed to avoid breaking anything, but couldn't rise before Kefka's runes slammed under him and blazed.

Terra and Celes were rushing past the elder's home, and the dancer could see the runes accelerating to chase them; thinking fast, she drew something out of her pocket and yelled, "Celes!" Lady Frost managed to turn to see something small and black flying towards her, and no sooner had she caught it than a rune ignited under Terra, leaving nothing where it had been.

She was almost through the gate when the last rune caught her, and the ensuing flames not only took her down, but _smashed the gate_.

When the dust settled, the last solid link to Roku Okoku had been ruined, and Kefka laughed at the results of his work before turning to the Warring Triad around him.

The stone casing on each _shattered_.

* * *

Draco: Be honest with me. Were you expecting Gestahl to get a fight scene, or did you think I was gonna kill him off before he got one?_**  
**_

(horrible disregard of merciless hellfire in favour of query b/c i'm evil liek that)


	42. Event Horizon

Draco: Remembering too late that getting Shadow as the Floating Continent falls apart means 'choose to _wait_ at 00:05', not 'choose to _jump_ at 00:05'. Jeez. Ah, well, I think I missed the dragon with the Genji Gloves before I reset, anyways.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Event Horizon**

The sound of the surf.

That was the sound that greeted Celes as she drifted, ever so slowly, from unconsciousness to waking. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, and her eyes refused to open, as though they had been physically sealed. Water was lapping up against her hand, and slowly, she reached for her face, dragging her fingers across her eyelids. The moisture helped her to open them, and slowly, she started to rise.

She was on a beach she did not recognize. She could see the shore arcing inward and reasoned she was on an island somewhere; slowly, she got to her feet, finding everything in her body to feel _weak_. She was clad only in her underthings, and her body was horribly sunburnt; as she tried to move, she felt something brush against her foot, prompting her to look down.

It was a stick of some sort, impaled in the sand. Its surface was a red so dark it was nearly black, and it was no thicker than a flower's stem. Slowly, she reached down, picking it up and holding it like she would a pen; it was hollow, such that she could have seen through it if not for how thin it was, and as she held it she was almost worried it would break from her grip alone, so narrow it was.

"What is this?" Her voice was cracked from disuse, and slowly she let it fall into her palm, closing her fingers on it.

It vibrated, so faintly, so briefly, that for a split second she wasn't sure it had actually happened.

Then from one edge surged **something** in vibrant blue, such that it was nearly white. It spiralled briefly as it burst, but condensed and took form as something almost solid, nearly white in its core but fading out to a deeper cobalt further out.

_Celes!_

The memories came flooding back in a rush. The gate to Roku Okoku, shattered open; the silent village, empty of monsters; the Warring Triad, petrified in trigram; Gestahl wrapped in spell papers, fighting like a sorcerer; and Kefka casting runes that consumed _everyone in flames_.

And Terra throwing her something so small...

A gasp of pain burst from Celes' lips, and her grip on the minute stick faltered as she gasped her helm; the blue edge vanished from the air around her as she fell to her knees in the sand. Slowly, her hand fell from her forehead, clutching the stick again; and slowly, she managed to get to her feet.

"Kefka... you... bastard..."

She glanced around. _I know he burned me... but I'm still alive. Which means... the others **have** to still be alive. How do I get out of here...? There has to be a way..._

Her grip closed on the stick again, and that vibrant blue edge burst out, causing her to step back.

_A blade... of pure force... contained... in something... so... small..._

The words of Roku Okoku's elder came back to her, and she released her grip on it, letting it roll into her palm as the blade faded. "Ultima," she realized. _A name that can only be held by a weapon worthy of it. So this is the edge that elder spoke of. And Terra had it with her this whole time?_ She shook her head. _No, she couldn't have... He said the Empire had it. They took it from Maduin. Which means... she must have found it before Gestahl's confrontation with Alexander. But why did she give it to me?_

Celes shook her head, glancing around.

"Where the hell am I...?"

+x+x+x+

A snow fairy is at her most powerful with water at her side.

It was a simple matter for her to form a walkway across the ocean, simply by freezing the water beneath her feet at she stepped forward. Slipping into the water periodically helped her to cope with the the burns that adorned most of her skin, and it was a simple matter to pull up some ice and force the salt out to provide her with freshwater with which to drink; sleeping upon the ice was of no discomfort, and she took care to freeze a dome over her walkway when the sun was up, so as to avoid furthering her weakness.

She wasn't sure how long it was, how many days passed - but in time she saw a shoreline, and then a city. It was Albrook, she could tell before she had even entered - but at this point, she cared not. She found a tailor's, first, and garbed her body in a robe of gold not unlike that which Terra had worn in Vector; then she made her way to the pub, in desperate need of a drink.

At once, she was surprised _and_ unsurprised at who she found there.

Gestahl was hunched over the counter. Spell papers still wrapped what was visible of his body, but he lacked his Imperial regalia - instead, he wore a formal suit, the jacket hung over the back of the seat to his left. He had a bottle of Black Cauldron in one hand, and there were three empties lined up at his side.

Celes briefly considered calling him out; and then, less briefly, she considered grabbing one of those empty bottles and crushing it over his head.

Instead, she simply stepped forward, sitting down at his right side. The barman saw her burnt face and, without a word, poured her a Tsunami-size glass of cold water. Celes accepted it with a bow of her head and drained it in one go; she needed not ask before the barman poured her another, and then a third and fourth. The fifth she drained halfway, paused, and then finished draining; the sixth she she took only a brief sip of, and then set down before her.

Gestahl watched all this transpire; and when she accepted the sixth glass, he spoke.

"You know..." His voice was heavy, and slurred slightly. "The first time I made ghouls of my men... They were my father's men. We used hairs taken from children... who had ventured into Vector. Adventurous teenage girls... A witch... An abominable snowgirl... And a succubus."

He shook his head. "Hair... was _not_ a good idea. It all went... horribly _wrong_. The one with the succubus infusion didn't need to worry about... staying cold... or getting out of the city. So I had him taken to the liquor stores to get a drink... that would calm his mind... and drown his sorrows."

The bottle was raised, so he could look over the label. "There was a soldier there, already. Someone from the Theta Sector... who had finished off a whole barrel of Chaos Wave... and thirty bottles of Demon Eye. The man with the succubus infusion... killed him with a vine through his heart. Illusion... given physical form."

The once-Emperor bowed his head, setting the bottle against the counter again.

"_That_... should have been my first warning. The power of monsters... is nothing willing to be controlled by men."

He raised the Black Cauldron to his lips and drained the bottle, not noticing - or perhaps not caring - about that which trailed down the side of his mouth and landed on his shirt.

"Why are you here, Celes Chere?"

"Because this is where I ended up," Lady Frost insisted. "The moment I can walk in a straight line, and swing my sword with enough force to harm, I'm going to find my friends. We're going to go back, and we will personally escort Kefka Palazzo to Jade Passage."

Gestahl glanced slightly in her direction. "So... you would play the devil... to rein in hell's jester."

Celes shook her head. "Still you think of monsters as hellspawn, she observed incredulously, "after all you have witnessed. After all _you've done_ to them."

"I was born shortly before a war began... between mankind and monsterdom," Gestahl argued weakly, turning back to his bottle. "Ever was I taught that monsters... were nothing but enemies. Never before have I met a monster... who did not wish for my blood... to decorate the earth upon which I stood. Should _he_ find Pandaemonium... perhaps I will begin to see things in a differing light."

His head shook slowly. "But it is a desperate hope. I am a very old man, Chere. Any prejudices I may bear against _you_ or _any_ monster... were seeded when I was but a boy... and saw nothing to stem them as I grew. I am more likely to die at the hands of a monster... than shake it in camaraderie."

She was about to retort when Gestahl spoke again.

"No... that's not true." He leaned back in his chair slightly. "There was one... who spoke to me as an equal. The woman... who put an end to that war. A Nosferatu. Asura damn it, the power emanating from her... It enticed me. It was incomparable to any monster I had seen before. That I have ever seen. Had my father held such power... he would not have met the end that he did..."

He lifted his bottle, as though to raise it to his lips; then he upturned it, and when nothing came out, he set it aside.

"That is why _my_ war happened. I sought the Nosferatu. I wanted that power for my own."

Celes wanted to yell at him; but she had not the strength. She glanced to her own glass briefly, chilling the water inside until the glass frosted but not freezing the liquid anywhere; then she turned back to him.

"You... You've a drop of whiskey. On your shirt."

Gestahl turned to her, and then down to his shirt.

And he felt that drop of whiskey freeze, expanding in the finest of points - which then proceeded to pierce his flesh, ever so slowly, ever so gently. The smallest of smiles rose on his face, and he raised his gaze to Celes again.

"I suspected as much," he admitted. "Your betrayal... was a matter of honour. Born not of a desire to gain something for yourself... but because my Empire has wronged you."

Lady Frost did not respond; her eyes were gleaming, the irises so bright cobalt as to nearly blend with the corenas, as she focused on the ice. Closing his eyes, the once-Emperor only turned back to the counter as that finest of points continued to dig in, ever so slowly.

"It is... fitting," he forced out, feeling the ice strike within him. "The last man of the Gestahlian Empire... to die at the hands of our own ghouls... is the man who gazed into the abyss... and provoked it... into gazing... back..."

He closed his eyes and leaned over the counter again as the life fled his body; and Celes released her focus, her eyes clearing again.

"I would bid you rest in peace... but you do not deserve that kindness."

She lifted her glass and drained it in one go; then she set it back on the counter, getting to her feet.

"May your punishment be issued by an Emperor who has earned his throne."

* * *

Draco: Sorry if I was vague about that last chapter, but the runes that took out the team were the same as the one that took out Gestahl.


	43. Elegy for a Ruined World

Draco: Alright... Mulch. How shall I proceed from here...

Fair warning, I am going to make this as long as I possibly can and still get a bossa nova next chapter. Also, note that Kefka has not altered the world. We're still working on a World of Balance map.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Elegy for a Ruined World**

If Vector had still considered itself Imperial when Celes had woken up, there was nothing to show for it.

The city was devastated, and everything in ruin. It was worse than it had been when the Roku had attacked; random buildings were burned _entirely_, and everyone she passed looked horrified. Lady Frost made her way to the palace to find it suffered the worst of the damage - but the armoury was mostly intact, as were the weapons within.

One Flametongue, one Icebrand, and one Thunderblade. She elected to wear them as Terra had - two across the back, one at the hip - and picked up a shield of the same build as the armour she usually wore. A bit more searching revealed her old quarters to be intact, as well; she shortly found her reserve store of armour, as well as less damaged undergarments, and a significant amount of aloe vera (which were applied to her body in the opposite order). Properly garbed and properly equipped, she slipped the robe over her armour to hide it, and then strapped the swords on over it; then she made her way out of the palace.

No sooner had she stepped out from the building than she heard an _explosion_ echoed through the air. Everyone she could see threw themselves to the ground, covering their ears; Celes recoiled for a moment, but quickly focused and took off in the direction she heard it from. She was horrified to see a building in the Gamma Sector was covered in flames - and clearly not normal flames, for they were _leaping across the surface at random_.

"Help! Please!"

The cry snapped Celes to attention, finding a woman rushing towards her. "My boy...! He is trapped inside! You have to help him, please!"

Celes didn't even hesitate; she gave the woman a quick "Wait here!" and charged towards the building shield-first.

+x+x+x+

"What the hell happened?"

The child was out safely. The building had collapsed almost as soon as Celes was outside, and now that she could think straight, she didn't understand what was going on.

The mother seemed surprised at Celes' question. "You do not know?" she asked, incredulous. "It has been happening for a year, now."

Celes started when she heard that.

"Ever since Gestahl was found unconscious in his palace," the woman continued, "and was roused in a state of horror, the Empire has been disbanded. And flames emerge upon buildings of residence at random. It happens everywhere, but nowhere moreso than in Vector. Those who survive the destruction of their homes claim that there was no way it could have been their fault. They are never believed, the people insisting that they are merely feigning ignorance. But I knew there was something odd about them - and now I am certain."

"Certain?" Celes inquired. "Certain of what?"

The woman paused for a moment, as though debating with herself whether or not to tell Celes.

"The madman," she said finally. "Gestahl's pyromaniac clown. After he was discharged for the use of poison, he absconded with an Imperial airship. They sighted it above the outpost to the east - which was where Gestahl had travelled for his last mission. And after that report came in, Gestahl was found in his palace, without having ever arrived. He disbanded the Empire, and now spends his time in Albrook's pub. The clown is doing this. I know not how, but it must be his doing."

Celes remembered the group's last moments in Roku Okoku; that fleeting sight of the Warring Triad, their bodies turned to stone, and covered in cracks. In no way did she put it past Kefka to have Merged the three of them, as he had the residents of that monstrous community - and by Strago's legend, their combined magic would be more than enough to affect this world through the gateway.

"You have a curious look in your eyes."

Unexpected as they were, the words caused Celes to raise her gaze; the mother was looking at her attentively. "A sort of... fury. There is something wrong, that you wish to set right; and nothing will stop you from setting it right, aside - perhaps - from being dragged to Raqia, kicking and screaming." A smile rose on her face. "Might I ask your name?"

Celes hesitated. "I am... Lady Frost."

The woman raised an eyebrow at her. "That is not much of a name, is it? It is more of... an address. A masked name, used by those hesitant to give their real names, for they fear someone unkind will hear them." She shook her head, her smile not falling. "A man came through here, a week ago. He, too, gave a masked name - and he had that same fury in his eyes. He headed northerly, towards Tzen, after hearing that the ships in Albrook were no longer running."

"Was..." Celes was hesitant to ask. "Was he... Stock Barrel?"

"No," the woman replied. "He was Phantom Fist."

_Sabin..._ "Thank you," Celes told the woman, bowing her head lightly; then she started out of the city.

She was certain, now, that her friends were alive - just as she was.

+x+x+x+

Celes made her way to Tzen to find that Phantom Fist had already come and gone, having found passage from "a ladies' man who called himself Desert Gear, in a boat marked with the emblem of Figaro". Understanding that the royal brothers would be found together, she simply made her way to the waters' edge and began walking again, slumbering when her body tired and keeping out of the sun - a much simpler task in the hooded robe she wore over her armour.

She found herself on the Veldt when she arrived, and made her way to Mobliz.

It was a horrible sight. The buildings were all damaged, as though an earthquake had struck the village, and what used to be the largest home was burned to the earth - by Kefka's flames, doubtless, for few others would go through so much trouble. As she stepped into the village, she could have sworn she saw a young figure standing atop the furthest building in (the next largest), but the moment she noticed it, it was gone, leaving her to question her own eyes. The city was deathly quiet, and Celes was worried that there was no one here.

Then she heard faint footsteps as she passed the inn.

A blur of red through the gap between two buildings caught her eye. A moment's pause; then the screams of swords being drawn caused her to turn. There was no one to be seen, but her sharpened eyes caught the tip of a blade. There were a few short breaths - panic, not tire, for she could hear the difference. Then two sounds emerged in succession - a crackle of electricity, and a sound like a breath on cold air - and she saw the tip of the sword wrapped in an icy mist.

A small smile rose on Celes' face, and she spoke loud enough that the rest of the village probably heard her if anyone else was still around.

"That's not much of a greeting... Dances."

A gasp, and a familiar face with jade hair glanced around the building as Lady Frost raised a hand in greeting.

"Celes!" The dancer's voice was but a whisper.

The swords fell to the ground, and Terra charged forward, catching Celes in a rushing hug. Though caught off-guard by the action, she quickly returned the hug. After a brief moment, the two of them parted, and the dancer reclaimed her swords and sheathed them; then she took Frost's hand, leading her into the furthest building in the city. There was a spiral stepladder (the likes of which Celes had never seen before) leading up through a hole in the back slant of the roof, and the little boy that she had seen on her entering the village was standing there; when he saw the two hand-in-hand, he looked between them in confusion. Terra released Celes' hand as he spoke.

"Lady?" he asked. "Who is she?"

Celes shot Terra a look.

Terra pointedly ignored it. "She's a friend," the dancer replied. "Don't worry." Then; "Lloyd, is everyone still inside?"

The boy, Lloyd, only nodded. "Yeah, they're safe!"

"Good. Can you send Meredy up for the next guard? We'll stay up here until she comes out."

"Okay." The boy vanished behind an old bookcase, and the sound of footsteps down a staircase echoed up.

Celes waited until they quieted before speaking. "'Lady'?"

Terra did face her. "I didn't give them my name," she insisted.

Footsteps coming back up; then a young girl came up. "It's my turn, Lady?" she asked.

"Yeah," Terra confirmed. "We're going to go downstairs. Come running right down if anything goes wrong, okay?"

The girl only nodded, and Terra beckoned for Celes to follow. Concerned, she followed the dancer downstairs, finding herself in a surprisingly expansive basement. There was a surprising number of young children gathered there, playing cards or board games with each other - and all of them looked horribly worried. A small mattress for each child was lying on the floor, and glancing behind the stairwell revealed a stove, refrigerator, and deep freeze sitting there. A pair of teenagers stood near a door, a boy and a girl; upon seeing Terra leading Celes downstairs, they both got to their feet in a hurry.

Terra raised her hand assuringly. "She's a friend," she said again.

The girl nodded. "Is everything alright, Lady?"

"I'm fine," Terra insisted. "I... We just... Don't let anyone in unless it's an emergency, alright?"

The boy bowed. "Yes, Lady."

Celes let the dancer lead her across the floor, and she could feel the gazes of the children on her. Terra let her go in first; then she followed Frost in and closed the door behind herself. This was a smaller room; there was a small bed inside, and a small table next to it, with Terra's Flametongue sitting against the mattress. Without speaking, Terra stepped forward and took her swords off, setting them next to the first one; then she sat down on the bed, beckoning Celes forward.

"What's going on here?" Celes asked, quiet in case the door let sound through. She stepped towards Terra, sitting down on a small chair near the bed. "Why...?"

Terra shook her head, prompting Celes to silence herself; then she spoke, her voice weak.

"After... what Kefka did in Roku Okoku... I woke up on the shore just north of here. I came to the village and found everyone frightened - the flames on the large home were only just dying down as I walked into the village. It had only been... a week, maybe. I'm not sure." A shaky breath. "Duane and Katarin... The two just outside... They told me everything."

Celes glanced towards the door again, just briefly fearful someone would walk in before Terra could finish; then she turned back as the dancer began to speak again.

"The adults of the village were all having a party. A baby shower, I think. Those two were there, too, and any children too young to be left home alone just for the night had been put to bed upstairs. It was three in the morning when it happened. They call them 'madman's flames', now. Say it's the judgement of an insane god who refuses to let the light bring hope."

"Kefka."

"Kefka..." Terra closed her eyes. "The home where everyone was gathered exploded, and started burning. It woke everyone up, and they realized what was going on. Katarin and Duane barely made it out alive. Everyone else had been drinking in joy. They couldn't function enough to get out before the home collapsed on them... and killed them all..." She shook her head, and Celes could see tears welling up in Terra's eyes. "I arrived the day after. Those two were still tending to each other when I got here. The children were all gathered outside, crying. They tried to calm them, but... they're too young to care for so many children.

"Then the earthquake happened. Everything started collapsing. I managed to use some of the Kingdom's magic to make the buildings fall in on themselves, not enough for anyone to notice. I... I couldn't think of any place to take them. Not where they'd be safe. So... I told them I would take care of them. I found this place, and I had everyone come down here in the basement. I made them all beds, and I moved the food supplies down here."

It was shocking to hear. "You've been caring for them this whole time?"

"I couldn't _leave_ them, Celes," Terra insisted, looking up to Lady Frost. "They were scared. They were _scarred_, and _hungry_, and I _couldn't leave them_. Some of them _still_ have nightmares about what happened. And then..." She winced, the tears starting to flow down her face as she looked earthward again. "A month ago... He came."

"Who?"

"He calls himself Humbaba. He's a slug monster, and he's not afraid to show himself. He taunted me about the madman's flames striking this village. I told everyone to hide down here, and I went up to fight him, but..." She shook her head. "I got lucky. He took a nasty shock when I threw my Thunderblade at him, and he ran off. That's the only reason we're still safe. That's the _only reason_ I'm still alive."

Celes didn't understand. "What do you mean?" she asked. "The way you fight... no one should have beat that. Even if you didn't want to risk showing the kids, there's still no way anyone should have-"

Terra raised her gaze at this point, and Celes fell quiet when she saw the glare on the dancer's face. A moment's passage; then she closed her eyes, reaching under her collar and drawing out something peculiar.

It was a padlock, marked by a cross with even-length arms; and circling her neck were chains each marked with the same.

"What... what is that?" Celes asked.

"Alexander's padlock," Terra replied. "That's what Father called it. Haku Ryu - the elder of Roku Okoku - he made it for my mother after she underwent the Kingdom's trial, so she would survive her pregnancy. It was designed to suppress the Kingdom's magic... but I found a way to alter it."

Celes had heard the whole story from Locke, that night at Albrook before they left for Thamasa. After a moment, she realized what Terra had done, and she looked up to the dancer's face. "You're... keeping _yourself_ sealed?"

Terra shook her head - not because her friend was wrong, but because she didn't understand. "I can't," she insisted. "I _can't_ use fire around these children. I can't even light my Flametongue. I can't risk making that memory fresh again for _any_ of them." She lowered her gaze to the lock. "It can't seal me if I fight it, it'll crack... but it's enough to stop me from doing anything unintentional."

"It's stopping you from dancing," Celes realized. "Even with your swords. Terra, you can't _endanger_ yourself like that. Do you even realize what you're doing to yourself?"

"I _know_, Terra protested. "But I _can't_ hurt these children. I can't give them any more pain..."

Celes sighed, and had opened her mouth to speak when the door flew open. It was the little girl, Meredy, and she looked horrified.

"Lady!" she shouted. "It's that monster! Humbaba! He's back!"

Terra was on her feet in an instant, grabbing her Icebrand and Thunderblade near her bed, and charged out of the room. "Stay down here," she instructed the children, slinging her swords across her back. "Keep quiet. Don't come upstairs, don't turn anything on."

Celes tried to chase after her. "You can't be-!"

"Don't!" Terra insisted, one foot on the bottom step. "Stay here."

"Wait!" Celes cried - but Terra was already taking off up the stairs. She had an urge to curse, but found the gazes of all the children on her and closed her teeth on her tongue.

Terra was already out the door to find the slug monster writhing through the middle of town. She took a few panicky breaths; then she drew her swords, flicking the hilts to charge the Thunderblade and chill the Icebrand. "What do you want now?!" she shouted.

Humbaba saw her there with her swords in hand and laughed - a thick laugh that echoed through the village. "Is that it?" he taunted. "Nothing new? You're not gonna scare me off this time!"

_Dammit..._ "I'm not afraid of you!" Terra shouted.

"Not yet, maybe," Humbaba taunted. "But you will be, soon enough. When your body gets too weak to fight, and you find yourself at the edge of death, you'll _beg_. You'll _plead_ for me to let you go, and when you do I _might_ just let you live... _if_ you give me the right _incentive_."

Terra didn't waste her breath responding; she charged forward, her swords low at her sides. The slug monster lashed one slimy hand forward, and Terra leapt aside - but her footing was off when she tried to land, and she tumbled into a vulnerable roll. She lost her grip on the Thunderblade, but the Icebrand stayed in her hand, and she swung it at him. The slug monster moved just aside before swinging his other arm earthward; she hardly managed to sidestep it before swinging the frosty sword into its fingers, but the slime wouldn't freeze, and he hardly seemed to feel the blow before he grabbed her leg and tightened his grip, tearing a scream from Terra's lips.

Celes heard the cries and decided against obedience. "Oh, like _diable,_" she muttered, the French coming from an old habit she had developed during military parades in Vector; she grabbed Terra's Flametongue and hooked the sheath in the strap of her own before storming her way up the steps. The slug monster had lifted Terra off the ground and was preparing to slam her back down; Celes quickly drew her own Icebrand and flicked the hilt to chill it before hurling it forward. The icy blade slammed into what was approximately the slug monster's neck, causing him to release Terra. She managed to avoid landing headfirst and lay on the ground, stunned; Celes quickly drew her Thunderblade and her shield before charging forward.

The slug monster's attempted punch was deflected off her shield, and Lady Frost quickly arced into a spin, slashing across the arm and sending a spark across his flesh. She leapt over a swing across the earth, and when the arm was swung back her way she turned her blade backhand and gave the limb a nasty stab; then she saw _Terra's_ Thunderblade lying on the earth. She quickly lashed the edge of her shield into the arm and hopped back, kicking the sword forward; it dug into Humbaba's underside, sending voltage across, and Celes sheathed her own before picking up her fallen Icebrand and leaping forward, landing a falling strike between the slug monster's eyes.

A moment's cry; then he took off, leaving Celes standing there and Terra lying winded on the earth.

With a heavy sigh, Lady Frost sheathed her chill blade, brushing against its hilt and that of her golden sword to still both; then she turned to Terra, who was slowly rising upright. Slowly, Celes picked up Terra's Thunderblade, stilling it, before taking it by the edge and handing it to her. Wordlessly, Terra accepted the sword, sheathing it and then her Icebrand; then she got to her feet and started back towards the building with the refuge.

Celes followed her back into the basement, and the children were all relieved to see Terra was alright; they went back to their games, though still frightful, and Terra instructed a boy named Garr to take the next watch. Terra took off her swords, setting them against her bed before lying down in it. Celes followed her into the back room, and when Terra noticed her she beckoned to the door, prompting Celes to close it behind her.

"Do you still have it?"

Terra's question caught Celes off-guard before she remembered the small item she had found next to her when she had woken. "You mean... the weapon," she realized. "The elder's Ultima."

The dancer nodded. "I didn't think I would survive when Kefka struck me," Terra admitted. "So I gave it to you, hoping you would make it out."

Celes shook her head. "But you _did_ survive," she pointed out. "You should be the one using this, not me."

"I'm sorry, Celes," she insisted. "I am. But... I can't hurt these children. And I can't let them be hurt."

"If you keep doing this, you won't be able to protect them," Celes argued. "No matter how hard you try."

Terra shook her head. "Just go. Please..."

Celes sighed; then she drew her chill blade off her back and set it down next to Terra's swords. "If you won't use a Flametongue, I'll take it, and leave you an extra Icebrand," she insisted.

"Alright," Terra agreed. "Thank you."

There was a moment's hesitation; then Celes stepped to the door and pulled it open again. She set one foot outside that boundary, and then turned to Terra again. "Dances."

The address caused Terra to wince, but she rose upright. "What?"

"I'll come back."

A simple promise, and one so easily kept; Terra only closed her eyes, a smile rising on her face.

"I'll be waiting."

That was it. Celes turned and made her way out of the village. Terra waited a moment; then she got to her feet and made her way back out to the main area of the basement. The kids were all looking at her curiously, and after a moment the boy Lloyd spoke up.

"Lady... she called you Dances," he observed.

Terra nodded. "Yes," she agreed. "She did."

The girl Meredy angled her head. "Can... can we call you Dances, Lady?"

"No, not like that!" another boy, Cress, argued. "Lady Dances! Can we call you Lady Dances?"

The children all murmured in agreement, and Terra only smiled softly.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'm okay with it."

Katarin stepped forward. "You should rest a little more... Lady Dances."

"I will," Terra assured them.

She made her way back into the inner room, closing the door - then she reached for the padlock around her neck.

One link had cracked when she had first tested the seal; and now, another was cracked, when it hadn't been before.

+x+x+x+

Again did Celes cross the water upon ice, this time making her way to South Figaro. It was the dead of night when she arrived, and the only one who saw her walking upon the water was a lone fisherman; she simply lifted herself up to the docks and held a finger to her lips, prompting him to nod dumbly. Tide and weather would melt the ice by daybreak, as it had on both of her previous walks, and she made her way to the tavern, hoping to find something about Phantom Fist or Desert Gear. The locals simply directed her to the desert of Figaro Castle, where she would find the ones she sought - although she was warned that the cave between the desert and the city was much less friendly than it had been.

The cave had no such unfriendliness - but she considered that to be due to the _cause_ of that unfriendliness being elsewhere.

As she neared Castle Figaro, Celes found several hooded figures that she recognized as wearing the robes of Imperial com officers. They were all holding pistols, and as Celes watched they raised their guns and fired them, briefly bathing the stones in flames - albeit to no effect. They were all murmuring something, and as Celes listened she made out a nonsensical chant.

"_Acfec ytied namdam eht ot liah..._" They raised their pistols and fired again."_Acfec ytied namdam eht ot liah..._" Another volley, and again the flames did nothing."_Acfec ytied namdam eht ot liah..._"

Confused, Celes only drew her shield and Thunderblade before shouting at them. "Hey!" As the men turned; "What do you think you're gonna pull off with Ifrit rounds on a stone castle?"

The robed men were quiet for a moment; then, at once, they chanted, "_Acfec ytied namdam eht ot liah..._" All of them raised their pistols and fired at her, but Celes only braced her shield before her, the flames clattering ineffectively off the surface; then she charged forward, flicking her weapon's hilt to wrap it in voltage. The men made no move to evade as she slashed the throat of one, sending his lifeless form twitching from the charge; they simply continued chanting, raising their pistols and firing at her; she simply guarded the shots with her shield before taking out another few soldiers. None of them reacted to the deaths of their comrades, and when she was down to one he fired at her sword, the blaze singing her fingers and causing her to drop the Thunderblade.

"_Acfec ytied namdam-_"

He was silenced when Celes slammed his face with the flat of her shield; then she brought it round and slammed the edge into his neck, breaking something as he fell to the ground. "_Don't shoot my sword!_" she roared, storming back to the fallen blade and flicking the hilt to stop the charge. Her fingers were sensitive, and she quickly switched her shield to that arm before picking the blade up and sheathing it.

A laugh from above her caught her off-guard. "You know, I thought I heard Fang say something about you swinging that thing like a sword."

She raised her gaze to find a pair of royal brothers standing at the castle walls; one had his arms crossed, and the other a crossbow hooked over her shoulder.

"I thought you said he was joking," the king prompted.

"I thought he was!" the prince insisted. "He was laughing about it."

"Gear!" she called. "Fist! Where have you been?"

"Come inside and we can talk," Edgar insisted. "We'll sandworm the place and head for Kohlingen."

Celes wasn't sure what was of interest in Kohlingen, but she elected not to argue; instead, she circled the castle and walked in through the front doors.

* * *

Draco: Alright, I think that's as far as I can take this and that wasn't nearly as long as I'd hoped.


	44. Blackjack's Breakup Bossa

Draco: I love this song. I do. I don't know why, and I have several reasons _not_ to, but I love it.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Blackjack's Breakup Bossa**

"You've _got_ to be Mulching me."

Celes, Sabin, and Edgar were in the guest room of Figaro Castle, which was en route to Kohlingen. Lady Frost had asked what the com officers were doing, and was quite displeased at the Figaro brothers' reply. "That clown has a _cult_, now?"

"Yes, he does," Sabin confirmed. "And I think he's actually got something to do with them. They're completely mindless, now."

"That explains why they're trying to burn your stones," Celes admitted.

"Actually, Kefka did pull that off once," Edgar admitted. "It stopped us from sandworming the first time Terra stayed here. I think it had something to do with Terra's father."

Celes nodded. "Yes, I'm pretty sure his concoction used Maduin's blood with the witch's hairs." She glanced around. "Mind if I ask what you've got in mind for Kohlingen?"

Sabin sighed. "We're looking for everyone," he explained. "We haven't found anyone. We were lucky we found each other. You find anyone yet?"

"...No," Celes lied, opting not to mention Terra.

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Well... I was at the Veldt," Celes admitted. "I _think_ I _might_ have seen Gau. But I didn't want to get his attention while I was wearing something with a hood."

"Justified," the king agreed. "Now, mind if I ask where _you_'ve been this past year?"

"Apparently, lying unconscious on a beach," Celes replied.

"Lying unconscious on a beach for a _year_?" Sabin exclaimed.

"Just low enough for high tide to not drown me," Celes confirmed. "I'm still kind of burnt."

The brothers exchanged incredulous looks. "You snow fairies are _crazy_," the prince admitted.

"You want crazy, we can go to Roku Okoku," Lady Frost reprimanded.

The castle lurched, causing the three of them to get to their feet. "We have arrived," Edgar observed.

+x+x+x+

"_Ba~be, it's tru~e  
I~'ll never lo~ve someone  
As I~ loved you  
Although I'd li~ke to~..._"

Celes and the Figaro twins walked into Kohlingen's pub to find a most bemusing sight. Setzer Gabbiani was standing on a stage, a mic in one hand and a glass of Angel Feathers in the other, singing karaoke with his eyes sealed. His longjacket was hung over his shoulders and threatening to slip off, though he hadn't done anything to either of his undershirts, and his shoes were hanging over the nearest seat with the shoelaces tied together, leaving him dancing around in his socks.

"_Find another o~ne  
Somewhere in the su~n  
You're the only o~ne  
I know I~  
Love!_"

The bar's crowd - which consisted of three guys who were drunk off their rear ends and the barman himself - started applauding Setzer as he stumbled down from the stage. He grabbed his shoes and took the seat they had been hanging from, setting his glass down and slipping his footwear on. Once he was satisfied with his shoes, he reached for his glass and raised it to his lips.

He was justifiably confused to find his wine was frozen solid.

"You're not bad with your vocals, Falcon."

Setzer raised his gaze to see Celes standing there, leaning on the seat across from him.

"Although I bet you're better sober."

She took the seat she was leaning on, with Sabin and Edgar taking the side seats; the gambler only sighed, lowering his drink - although not setting it down. "Now that's just a waste of good wine," he reprimanded.

The wine proceeded to melt in his glass. "Leave it still for a moment so it can redistribute," Celes advised, prompting Setzer to set the glass down.

Edgar leaned forward. "What are you doing here?" he inquired. "I thought you'd still be flying."

Setzer's expression darkened the moment he said that, and he turned away with a low growl.

Sabin sighed. "None of that," he reprimanded. "We're looking for everyone. Have you been here drinking this whole time?"

"It's called drowning one's sorrows," Setzer retaliated. "I'm not interested in this crazy war any more."

"The war is over," Celes snapped. "Gestahl's dead, the Empire's disbanded. All we have to do is deal with Kefka and we're finished. We could use some mobility."

"If you want mobility," Setzer snapped back, "then find someone with an airship."

"_You're_ someone with an airship!" Edgar protested. "That's the whole reason we're talking to you!"

Setzer reached into his pocket and threw something at the king, prompting his brother to reach across the table and grab it before it could connect; then he turned his hand so the palm was skyward and opened his fist.

It was a mechanical nut.

"What the...?" Sabin's eyes widened, and he turned to Setzer. "You don't mean-!"

"That's right," Setzer growled. "That's what's left of the _Blackjack_. When I got back to the cave, that was the only thing _mechanical_ that was still there!" He grabbed his glass and drained it in one go. "What am I supposed to do when I have no wings with which to fly?"

"Why don't you make yourself new ones?" Celes demanded. "Or better, earn them."

Setzer was caught off-guard by that. "Earn...?"

Celes smirked. "You're a gambler, aren't you?" she inquired. "And I'm willing to bet you got _something_ on the _Blackjack_ because your opponent ran out of chips. So find someone with an airship, and ante up."

The gambler was quiet for a long moment.

Then he smirked, getting to his feet. His hands crossed one another over his chest as he shifted his longjacket forward; then he slipped his arms into the sleeves and started towards the door. "Now that you mention that," he admitted, "I do believe I have a hand to play."

Confused, Celes turned to Edgar and Sabin, who only shrugged.

The door to the tavern was thrown open, and Setzer turned to the three of them.

"Well, are you coming with?"

+x+x+x+

Setzer led the group just southwest of Kohlingen, whereupon they found themselves at what _looked_ like a small cave jutting out of the earth. There was no entrance to the cave, however; it was simply a rough stone wall, with nothing upon it.

"I think I've seen this before," Edgar observed. "This is... it's like Locke's safe-zone passage in Narshe. There's somewhere here to slide one of your cards in, isn't there?"

"Almost," Setzer admitted. "I haven't considered using cards before. I really ought try that sometime." He stepped to the left and slipped his left arm out of his jacket, letting it hang off the other one. "No, this requires something a little more..."

He held his arm straight, and other three were surprised to see _everything past his elbow_ shift, becoming a long, jagged blade.

"...personal."

As they watched, Setzer angled his blade-arm vertical before driving it into the stone wall. There was a clatter of something stone, and a wince crossed the gambler's face; then he twisted his arm while it was still in the wall, causing the stone surface to tumble inside itself - and the others were relatively shocked to see the stones tumble down a carved staircase that led into the earth. Once the stones had all fallen, Setzer pulled his arm out of the wall, letting it shift back before grabbing his jacket and slipping into his sleeve again.

"If you've got a sword on your arm," Sabin asked, "why don't you fight with that?"

"I've been called a killer with games of chance," Setzer replied. "Using a blade actually puts me at a disadvantage."

He led the way down, with Celes following close behind. They shortly found themselves in a massive underground cavern, with several torches blazing to provide light - as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Lady Frost saw a massive coffin lying there. "What... what is this?" she exclaimed.

Setzer closed his eyes and bowed his head, silent for a long moment.

"Her name was Darill..."

+x+x+x+

The tomb was _massive_, and Celes was actually pretty sure that Setzer got them lost once or twice (although she said nothing on it). Eventually, however, they found themselves in a deep cavern, and they could see the massive airship in bright white - more streamlined than the _Blackjack_. There was a name emblazoned across the side, and slowly, Celes approached it until she could make it out.

"..._Falcon..._?" She turned to the gambler, who had his head bowed. "Falcon Flyer."

"Exactly," Setzer admitted. "This was Darill's ship. The fastest that ever flew by the power of her own wings."

He stepped towards it and drew out a hand of cards. Tossing them towards the ship snapped a few ropes, causing a boarding plank to fall down before them, and Setzer led them inside. The interior was much less... _opulent_ than that of the Blackjack, and the Figaro brothers and Celes followed the gambler up to the deck, whereupon he gripped the helm with one hand and shifted a lever down on its side.

A clatter caused him to turn to see a pair of crimson dice had fallen from the lever slot.

"She took my lucky dice," he realized.

A moment's pause; then he turned back forward and shifted the lever again, causing the ship to start moving forward.

"Hold on!"

Edgar and Sabin gripped the railings; Celes only started walking forward as the ship began to move. The cavern was greater than she thought; Setzer had actually crafted a long takeoff tunnel, through which they began to move - slowly at first, and then faster and faster.

Soon enough, they took off skyward, and found themselves soaring above the Doma region; then Setzer banked it hard to starboard, turning them until they were facing Narshe.

And from there, it felt like they could see all the world.

* * *

Draco: I didn't realize how _huge_ the world I've put together _is_ until I brought up a map trying to figure out where Celes should come off her island. I mean, honestly. I've got at _least_ three Fantasies' worth of continents around here. Maybe five. I deliberately ignored VII geography, but it was impossible to mess with VI geography and it shows.

_But_ when the woman in Vector last chapter mentioned 'everywhere', she meant _everywhere_.


	45. A Glimmer of Hope

Draco: Let's see if I can make _this_ one huge. Like, Arukuu's kind of huge. Have you guys read Arukuu's stuff yet?

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**A Glimmer of Hope**

The _Falcon_ landed outside Doma Castle, just beyond the old location of the Gestahlian camp.

Celes still had a vivid image in her mind of the massive castle towering from the earth before Doma, the Divine Light of Feymarch casting its blades across the surface of the earth. The four of them - Setzer, Edgar, Sabin, and Celes - stepped off the airship and started towards the castle. Celes was at the back of the group by choice, and after a few minutes of walking she asked, "He's not still buried under here, is here?"

"Who?" Setzer inquired, confused. Then, upon realizing what she was talking about; "Oh, uh, no. According to Fang, he's been, er... 'shifted'. Sent somewhere else. And he'll be sleeping for a few centuries or so."

"Alright, then," Celes observed, her steps a little less nervous. Just a little.

As they got nearer to the castle, the four of them were very concerned to hear the sound of swords clashing, and battle cries in a familiar voice. Nervous glances were exchanged between them; then they broke into a series of runs, charging towards the castle. The doors were still burned open, and Celes was somewhat surprised to find the stench of death still lingered - but it didn't take her long before she realized why.

Cyan Garamonde was standing there, his sword drawn. He was _surrounded_ by charred figures bearing spears and bucklers; each of them had a rune-adorned card of some sort hanging over their faces, and they all _hopped_ towards him, stopping to thrust at him as soon as he was in thrusting range. Cyan was deflecting their attacks easily, but he seemed to hesitant to attack them; and there were a few cuts across his arms that seemed to indicate that his deflections had not been as broad as he would have liked.

"Those are... Kyonshi!" Celes exclaimed. Then she yelled to the samurai there. "Fang!"

The voice got Cyan's attention, and he deflected another thrust before glancing over his shoulder. "Frost!" he called. "I ask thy assistance!"

Celes charged forward shield-first, knocking a few hopping zombies aside; then she drew one of her Flametongues, igniting the blade the moment it was free of its sheath. Sabin punched one that went for Cyan's blind side before shifting his hands to claws, and Edgar snapped another's spear with his own before bracing it in both hands; Setzer hurled a hand of cards and found them sticking ineffectively into the Kyonshi there, prompting him to take a defensive stance.

"What's going on here?" Celes demanded.

"No time for that!" Cyan insisted. "I am glad thou hast arrived, I cannot do this with mine own power! Follow me!"

He charged forward, sending Kyonshi flying every which way; the three of them quickly rushed through the gap in the crowd and followed Cyan inside. Once they were all through the doors, the samurai slammed the door shut, bolted it, and then barricaded it before sheathing his weapon.

"That should hold them for a while," he admitted, turning to the others. "Thy timing is impeccable."

Setzer folded his hand of cards, slipping them back into his sleeve. "What's going on here?" he demanded. "Where did all those Kyonshi come from?"

Cyan sighed. "The people of Doma," he replied. "When Kefka threw his toxic weapon over the walls, I... I was enraged. I ran to the Imperial Camp without thinking to give them a proper burial. It seems those hooded men who murmur his name backwards have taken advantage of mine carelessness, and turned the people of Doma into an army of Kyonshi."

"So that's why you haven't taken any of them down," Edgar realized. "Because they were your allies."

"Verily," Cyan confirmed, his voice heavy. "And being as they were mine allies, I cannot bring myself to land any felling blows - even those which wouldst be mortal wounds to humans, though I am well aware they will not slay a Kyonshi. I know," he added before any of them could interject, "it's outright daft of me, but..."

Celes shook her head. "It's not," she insisted. "That's just a natural reaction to fighting your friends."

Sabin turned to her. "Didn't you spin circles around Kefka with your sword out?"

"I said _friends_," Lady Frost snapped. "He _was_ an _ally_, and only _while_ I was with the Empire. And even that's stretching it."

The monk only turned to Cyan again. "So, how can we help?" he asked.

"They need only be delivered their final rest," the samurai replied. "If we can counteract whatever enchantment has been set upon them, I will set them into the earth, and a proper burial will see that they cannot be raised like this again."

Edgar hummed. "You said Kefka's little cult did this?"

"Yes," Cyan confirmed. "What of it?"

"They're humans being manipulated remotely by arcane means," Setzer realized. "Which means any magic they use has gone through Roku Okoku's link and their human bodies before they make use of it. It'll be diluted. Whatever's keeping these Kyonshi animated is more fragile than it would be if he had done it himself."

Cyan turned to the gambler, his thoughts clear in his expression. "Then... those papers upon their faces..."

Celes glanced at the door behind him. "I need to take a look at those," she mused. "Let one in."

"Okay, _no_," Cyan interrupted. "The moment we open this door, they will sight thee and try to attack thee. We cannot hold the door against this many, and I didn't think hopping could be that fast. I can only _just_ outrun them without the moon to aid me. Thou wilt fall in an instant."

"I need to get a good look at those things," Celes insisted.

"...There is access in here to the walkway upon the castle walls," Cyan offered. "I'm certain Sir Figaro has a contraption thou might use to bring one of those Kyonshi up to thyself when the need arises."

"I should be able to jury-rig something," Edgar admitted. "There is rope in this castle, right?"

+x+x+x+

A few moments later, the five of them were gathered on the west wall of Doma Castle. Edgar had tied a rope around a bolt loaded in his crossbow in a manner that reminded Celes of certain fishing tactics; the Figaro king fired at the nearest Kyonshi and managed to haul it up to the wall, whereupon Sabin and Cyan trapped the moving corpse in place and Setzer tossed a pair of dice on the ground in front of it - deep blue, with bright yellow pips.

"Snake-eyes, again?" the gambler protested seeing the twin ones sitting there.

"What do thy dice even do?" Cyan inquired. "I've seen thee fight with cards, but thou didn't even hit him when thou rolled.

Celes only stepped towards the Kyonshi, which - being trapped between a monk and a samurai with a gambler's dice on the ground in front of it - seemed to know better than to struggle. Slowly, she set a hand upon the spell paper hanging before its face, twisting it lightly. "I thought so," she mused, drawing one of her Flametongues. "You're right, Fang. These papers are holding all the magic that keeps these guys moving. Damage these..."

She swept the blade through the paper, clipping most of it off and leaving only a small scrap still joined to the Kyonshi - the corpse went still, prompting monk and samurai to release it as it fell to the ground.

"...and they're done."

Cyan chuckled, turning to the dead army and setting one hand on the handle of his blade - and the entire area seemed to get darker. "This just got a whole lot easier."

Before any of the others could react, the samurai leapt down from the castle walls, drawing his weapon mid-jump with a scream of blade against sheath, his body shifting as he fell. The moment he landed, Cyan's figure became an indistinct blur, and Kyonshi started collapsing in jagged rows. Celes, Sabin, Edgar, and Setzer could only watch, incredulous, as Cyan dashed about every which way, the army of hopping zombies falling to the earth everywhere he passed.

In time, he came to a stop in the middle of Doma's courtyard, surrounded by the (once again stilled) bodies of his comrades.

The other four exchanged glances and shrugged; Setzer swept his dice off the ground as the Figaro brothers leapt down ahead of him, with Celes opting to take the route through the castle interior.

"I thought I noticed something different," Sabin admitted. Pointing at Cyan's blade; "Is that a new katana?"

"No," Cyan replied, sheathing his weapon. "It is not a _new_ katana. That would imply that I _had_ a _katana_ prior to this one."

Sabin cuffed him lightly. "Wiseass."

Cyan only laughed. "Alright, I do believe we are done here."

"Do you want our help... with all of this?" Setzer asked, beckoning around at the littered corpses.

"...No," Cyan insisted. "I would like to do this on mine own. But thank you for thy offer. Wait for me upon the _Blackjack_."

"We don't have the _Blackjack_," Edgar corrected.

The samurai was confused at that. "What?"

Sabin set a hand upon his shoulder. "We're moored where the Imperial camp used to be," he replied. "We'll wait for you on board."

Celes came out of the castle at this point, and the four of them headed back, leaving Cyan standing perplexed in the courtyard. He waited until he was certain the others were not going to turn around; then he made his way through the door Celes had left open, walking through the castle and into the king's throne room.

Two Kyonshi remained there, tied to the throne and restrained - a woman, and a young boy.

"Elayne... Owain..." Cyan sighed, shaking his head. "I ask thy forgiveness. I oughtn't ever have allowed this to happen to thee."

He set his hand on the handle of his sword.

+x+x+x+

"Is it only the four of thee?"

Cyan was slightly surprised to see the _Falcon_, but had nonetheless boarded the ship and joined the others inside. At the samurai's question, Celes only raised an eyebrow. "Did you expect someone else?"

"A larger group has less mobility," Cyan admitted. "For the most part, any situation where all of us were involved in the same place was one where mobility was not an issue - but for, say, travelling to Doma from here, a smaller group would make sense. Four is a popular number in such cases. I thought that thou hadst found the others, and simply elected to take a smaller group to pick me up."

"Justified," Edgar admitted, "but incorrect. We haven't found anyone else. The closest we got, Celes saw Gau on the Veldt."

"I _might_ have seen Gau on the Veldt," Celes corrected. "That kid wears too many hides to be sure."

Cyan angled his head in a 'well, yeah' manner. "Might I propose we split up to find the others?"

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "How?" he asked. "We've only got one airship. And those earpieces were short-range only. We've got two cell phones, and no other means of communication. At the very least, we need to be able to signal Setzer to pick us up."

Setzer raised his gaze. "I think Darill prepared for something like that," he admitted.

"Who?" Cyan inquired.

"Don't ask," Sabin insisted.

"Or at least ask later," Setzer agreed, getting to his feet and taking off. He was back in a moment with a bag in hand, and once he had everyone's attention, he reached into the bag and drew out what _looked_ like one of the earpieces from before - except it was jet-black.

Edgar rolled his eyes. "Like I said," he insisted, "short-range."

Setzer shook his head and pressed a button on the earpiece, prompting what looked like an antenna to stick out of one end. "This links straight to the airship," he insisted, "and it's _ridiculous_ly long-range. If I keep it in the air, you'll be able to contact me from anywhere. Maybe everywhere. There's enough parachutes in here to deploy a small army at once, and an escape rope mechanism like the one on the _Blackjack_. I won't have to land unless we pick up an army."

Cyan nodded. "That could work."

The gambler tossed him the earpiece. "Although you guys should really get cellphones so we don't have to go through this kind of Mulch."

"That _will not_ work," Cyan protested.

+x+x+x+

Desert Gear dropped down near Jidoor.

The city and its inhabitants were acting surprisingly normal, considering one of the nobles' mansions (which was visible from the city limits) was a smoking heap that looked to be the work of madman's flames. With chainsaw and crossbow both ready to be drawn, the machinist stepped into the city, looking around for some sign of another teammate. The café was dark, and after a brief glance around Edgar stepped toward the building and cracked the door open, slipping through it and closing it behind him before turning round.

Someone was already standing there, and he didn't have time to react before something was raised to his neck.

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "Does that work on everyone, Angel?"

Relm Arrowny lowered her paintbrush. "...Gear," she realized. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Edgar replied. "We're trying to find everyone. Why are you here on your own? And where's Blue?"

"I don't know," Relm admitted. "I haven't seen him since... before the madman's flames started. I woke up here and I've been biding my time ever since."

"Woah," Edgar observed. "That's... impressive. Anyways, I'll tell Falcon to pick us up, and-"

Relm grabbed his arm before his hand could touch his earpiece. "Don't," she insisted. "There's something going on here."

Edgar raised an eyebrow.

"That big mansion on the far end," Relm replied. "There's some kind of magic working there. And it feels dangerous."

_Right,_ Edgar recalled. _Spellcasters__._ "Anything a little more specific than 'feels dangerous'?" he asked.

Relm shook her head. "It's too deep. That mansion is huge, and I think it's somewhere in the basement. That much _building_ gets in the way."

"Wonderful," the machinist muttered. "Well, we might as well check it out."

"Also," Relm inquired, her voice dropping, "do we really have to play this old-school spy game in an empty building?"

Edgar reached for his crossbow.

The artist pulled away, raising her hands in apology.

The king lashed it down, pulling the trigger, and a bolt flew over Relm's head, across the café, and shattered a glass on the bar, causing someone coming through the nearest door to yelp and pull away.

"Not when it's actually empty," Edgar replied, hooking his crossbow over his back. "But most times you want to be safe, just in case."

+x+x+x+

Phantom Fist landed a bit from South Figaro.

The city was in stable condition - there was all of _one_ house that was damaged, and it was already showing signs of repair. He asked around, but didn't find much as far as his allies went; nonetheless he had another reason for dropping in this region, and so he only started northerly.

He found it before too long - the cabin where Duncan had trained him and Vargas.

With a heady sigh of nostalgia, Sabin stepped inside, pushing the door open. The cabin was just as he had last seen it, and hadn't been affected by madman's flames; he took several moments to take in the familiar area before stepping towards a cupboard full of finest china. With due caution - for such time unused had weakened the dishes - he pulled the doors of the cupboard open and set them upon the nearest table; then he reached into the back and felt around (any lighting that might have remained after Duncan and Vargas' fight had long died out from lack of care).

There were three indents there - two marked by solid fists, one of which had worn rings, and one by thinner claws.

His hand shifted, and he slipped his clawed hand in there and closed his scissor grip. A tremor from behind the wardrobe caught his attention; Sabin pulled his claws out and shifted the hand back as the wardrobe slid to one side, revealing a door. Decidedly curious - for the cabin was very nondescript, and didn't expand in that direction enough for a door to go anywhere - Sabin approached it and cautiously turned the doorknob.

The wooden planks beneath his feet pulled away too quickly for his feet to go with them, and the Figaro prince yelped as he fell...

...into a bedroom?

Now he was concerned. Duncan had, on taking Sabin as an apprentice, had him mark the china cupboard with his claws and instructed him to not touch it again. Sabin had assumed that it was a simple ceremonial thing; that Duncan would have Sabin slip his claws in there again when his apprenticeship was over, and prepare a parting gift behind his back when all was done. His doing it now was simply a wish to bring a proper end to his apprenticeship - if only in his own mind. This, however, was ridiculous; he was sitting in a bedroom that could very well have been his own in Castle Figaro, and it was impressive. There was a screen sitting against the wall, and a button nearby.

Hesitant, Sabin stepped forward and pressed the button.

The screen lit up, and Sabin found himself watching a video of Duncan's face.

_"Sabin Rene Figaro,"_ the video began. _"There are three possible reasons you are watching this. First, if you have disobeyed my instructions to not touch the china cabinet on the grounds that you **think** I'm out of the house and won't be back for a while, I'm willing to bet I'm probably standing upstairs trying not to laugh at the sound of my own voice coming up through the floorboards. The button you pressed to turn this video **on** also functions to turn it **off**, so press it, and I'll drop the rope ladder above the wardrobe."_

A long pause.

_"Secondly,"_ the video continued, _"if **I** have instructed you to trigger this, that means you have ended your apprenticeship, and I could not be prouder of you. However, Vargas is probably in a **very** foul mood on the simple grounds that, A, he has not completed _**_his_**_ apprenticeship, or B, he is not the **only** one to complete his apprenticeship. He has far too much pride for his own good, and I am probably contending with him outside, so I apologize for not being able to do this in person."_

Duncan gave a heavy sigh.

_"But if I haven't given you instructions on how to skip ahead,"_ he added, _"then that means that I am no longer in this world, and you saw fit to bring your apprenticeship to a proper conclusion. So I thank you, at least, for giving me that mind. You must be impressed by your surroundings, and I'll have you know your brother helped me to put this together. Before you start getting angry at him,"_ Duncan added, raising a hand warningly, _"know that **I** asked **him** to lend me a hand, and the fault is completely mine._

_"I want to make this brief, for I'm certain you have something important going on. I prepared something for you - something to make any struggles you might have a little easier on you. And if I can't give it to you for completing your apprenticeship, let me give it to you now. Look under the bed."_

Sabin glanced at the bed behind him before turning back to the video. "Wait, what?"

_"Oh, wait,"_ Duncan insisted. _"There's a button on the... right of the headboard, while you're seated in it. Press that to pause the video. Then press it again to make it resume."_ As Sabin turned back to the bed and approached the headboard, he heard the recorded Duncan muttering, _"Asura, I hope I remember to re-record this. I sound like a moron."_

The button was located, and Sabin pressed it quickly, bringing the video to go still. He then dropped to the floor, looking under the bed, and found a large box lying there. He shot the stilled video a look; then he pushed the box out from under the foot of the bed before pressing the button to resume.

_"Alright, got the box out?"_ Duncan inquired. _"Pull it open. It's just a simple friction case._"

Sabin managed to pry the lid off, and he was surprised by what he saw there. There were two of what looked like armoured gauntlets sitting there, in sculpted padding, and as he drew them out he found they both bore wicked spikes on the knuckles. One was looked like dragon scales; the other was adorned in tiger stripes.

"Woah."

_"You see them now, don't you?"_ Duncan offered. _"I made these for you. Put them on."_

The monk picked them up; the dragon-scaled glove went on his left hand, and the tiger-striped one on his right. They weren't _thickly_ armoured - they were flexible enough that they didn't feel like much more than gloves, but slapping them against each other proved them resistant. "This is awesome," Sabin mused. "But..."

_"I know what you're probably thinking,"_ Duncan admitted. _"What use are these, when you have your claws? Well, I can't always draw my wings, and you can't always spike your arms. Humans would freak out. So here's a little something to make it easier when you can't shift."_

"Yeah," Sabin mused. "That makes sense."

A long pause.

_"Try and shift your hands."_

Sabin raised his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

The recorded Duncan motioned his hand, as though beckoning to the gloves.

Wary, Sabin held both hands before him... and shifted them.

And he was _amazed_ to see the _gloves_ shift, molding along his flesh, the fingers pulling back almost like a pair of custom-made fingerless gloves. Amazed, he closed the grip on each - it was unrestricting, _and_ the gloves were undamaged when he made contact with them.

"Holy _shit_," the monk exclaimed.

_"Watch your language."_

Duncan's recorded voice caused Sabin to snap his gaze up, shocked - and Duncan broke down laughing on the video, shaking his head. _"I can't do that,"_ he argued, turning to someone off-camera. _"If he doesn't end up swearing, I'm going to look like a moron. I **have** to re-record this."_

Whoever he was talking to responded. _"You want to do the bit for graduation ceremony anyways, just to be safe?"_

_"You know, I might as well,"_ Duncan admitted, turning back to the camera. _"Sabin, I'm sorry for making a fool of myself on here, and I really hope this isn't the copy that you end up finding. But thank you regardless. I'm glad you asked to be my apprentice - it's been refreshing to teach someone a little more... composed than my son is."_

Sabin sighed, bowing his head; then he shifted his claws back to hands, and he reached forward and pressed the button he had used to turn the video on - and the video shut itself off.

Then a dark voice from behind asked, "Am I interrupting something?"

Sabin whirled around, raising his hands as fists. A familiar figure in black garb and a black cowl was standing at the side of the bed, and after a moment Sabin gave a heavy sigh and lowered his hands. "Shadow," he greet. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard something about a guy calling himself 'Phantom Fist' taking off in this direction," Shadow replied. "I had a hunch I'd recognize the name's owner - turned out I was right. Can I talk to you outside?"

"No, let's do it down here," Sabin insisted, stepping forward. "We're going to go deal with Kefka. How much do I have to pay you to lend us a hand?"

Shadow visibly blinked. "You...? How much do **I** have to pay _you_ to let me in on it?"

Sabin was caught off-guard. "Wait, what?"

"That bastard clown attacked Thamasa," Shadow snapped. "A safe haven for spellcasters. And one of the fire beams from those crawler-model mechs almost took down Interceptor. If you're gonna deal with him, I want in."

A grin rose on Sabin's face. "Thanks."

He stepped towards the bed, and glanced up.

"...I don't suppose you noticed a rope ladder?"

+x+x+x+

Eclipse Fang touched down outside Thamasa.

The samurai had reckoned his old-fashioned armour would prompt a less offensive reaction from the spellcaster's village, and he was relieved to see that his suspicions were correct - although he did get a few dirty looks that he assumed were for wearing his katana. One building was half-torched, but he had reason to doubt it was the work of madman's flames for the simple fact that the structure was mostly standing; he was more certain that a much larger foundation of smoking rubble was Kefka's doing.

He made his way to an inn, finding an innkeeper with a permanently foul expression. "Good afternoon," the swordsman greeted. Reckoning that Blue Wizard oughtn't have given his hometown a false name, he asked, "Might I ask thee where I might find Strago Magus?"

The innkeeper was surprised. "Old man Strago?" he asked. "What do you want with him?"

"He is an acquaintance of mine," Cyan replied. "He provided mine cause with aid once before, and I would like to request it again. Dost thou know which residence is his?"

"The burnt one," the innkeeper replied. "The one that's still standing. He's been crashing at the mayor's place since he got back last year, in a fit over his missing granddaughter."

Cyan hummed. "Thank thee," he told the man, stepping out of the inn.

The mayor informed him that Strago had left early that morning to check on the Triple Caves. Cyan got lost once or twice en route and still made record time on his arrival. He thought he picked up several people there, but remembering what had been said about the Warring Triad's resonation, he simply stepped inside. Strago was indeed there, in a wide region with three golden statues in the middle, and he seemed to be practicing his magic. As the samurai stepped into the cave, the old man heard him; Strago spun round and flew forward, with his coin sword in one hand and his staff in his other.

The katana was raised to block the Yasha's blade, and the staff was stopped in his palm.

"Quite the reaction, Blue," Cyan greeted.

"You," Strago mused. "Fang, right?" Then, quieter; "Why the callsigns?"

"As an act of caution," Cyan replied, likewise quiet. At a normal volume; "Might I ask thy reasons for being here?"

Strago shrugged. "Haven't seen Angel since we got back," he admitted. "I'm pretty sure she's alright if she took the same hit we did, but my magic's so old that I've got to practice if I want to find her." A moment's pause. "Although... there is something I used to look for back when I was a kid, and I figured I'd get around to looking again. Maybe you could lend me a hand."

Cyan shrugged. "I reckon, yes. What dost thou need?"

"There's supposed to be an old... _something_ hanging around in a cave just north of Thamasa," Strago replied. "I don't even know if it's some_thing_ or some_one._ That place is a maze, and I'd always get too lost to keep looking. More than once I got close to never getting out."

"And thou wouldst reckon that a second pair of eyes and a quick pair of feet might aid thee in bringing thy search to fruition," Cyan observed.

"Exactly," Strago confirmed.

The samurai only smirk. "Lead the way."

+x+x+x+

Lady Frost landed on the Veldt.

She had requested to be the last to drop, although she had informed the others of her destination so Sabin and Cyan wouldn't land here ahead of her. She had also kept her robe on, with the twin Flametongues on her back and her Thunderblade at her hip. An arrival near Crescent Mountain left her space to walk; her intention was to find Gau on her way to Mobliz. She was not disappointed when rapid footsteps sounded behind her not long after she touched down, and she only leapt aside as their owner tried to tackle her, tumbling to the earth as she got to her feet with a roll. She wasn't at all surprised to see the wild child as he got to his feet - although he was rather surprised to see her.

"Hey, Roar," she mused. "Long time."

Gau gave a surprised cry. "Frost!" he cheered. He glanced skyward - he must have noticed the _Falcon_ when she had dropped in. "New airship, us?" he asked.

Celes nodded. "The _Blackjack_ got lost when we got back," she explained, reaching for her earpiece. Then, hitting the transmitter, "Falcon, it's Frost. Roar found me. Can you pick us up?"

_"That was fast,"_ Setzer observed.

"I know," Celes insisted. "Just drop the rope and fly over. I'm just a little north of the mountain." She pulled her hand off the transmitter and turned to Gau. "Can you do me a favour?"

A concerned cry from the wild boy.

"It's nothing big," she assured him. "Just ride the escape rope up and tell Falcon not to drop it again until I call him. There's something I gotta do."

Gau only nodded. The _Falcon_ was already nearing them, and the boy quickly grabbed the rope and pulled hard enough for it to drag him skyward. Celes promptly continued her route towards Mobliz, ignoring Setzer's inquiries over the com and letting Gau sort it out. It didn't take her long to arrive at the village, which didn't look to be in any worse condition than when she had last left it, but there was no one on guard was already absent when she arrived, which left her concerned.

Then she heard the footsteps.

Celes sighed, relieved. "You guys get scared by the airship?" she asked.

She turned in time to see Terra glance around the building - having not passed the inn this time meant she was looking between buildings. Terra was relieved to see her, stepping out without drawing her blades. "You came back," she observed.

"I promised I would," Celes reminded her.

They made their way to the far building. There was a young girl ducked behind the bookcase, and upon peeking around as they walked in again, she sighed, annoyed. "Lady Dances, it was just your friend!"

"I know, Milla," Terra apologized. "You want to send Cress up for his guard?"

"Sure," the girl replied, making her way downstairs.

Celes shot Terra a look the moment she was gone.

Terra noticed. "That one is your fault," she reprimanded.

Footsteps were coming back up before too long, and a young boy rounded the bookcase. "My turn, Lady Dances?"

"Yeah," Terra confirmed. "You know what to do if things go wrong, right?"

The boy nodded, and Terra led Celes back downstairs. The children were pleasantly surprised to see 'Lady's friend' had come by again, and they made their way to the back room with instructions to Duane and Katarin to make sure they were only interrupted in an emergency.

They both took their swords off this time, lying them against Terra's bed; Celes was the first to speak. "Has he attacked since I left?"

"No," Terra replied. "Nothing. You meet up with everyone else?"

"I found Sabin, Edgar, and Setzer," Celes replied, quiet enough that no one on the other side of the door would hear. "The _Blackjack_'s gone missing, but Setzer dug up his old girlfriend's airship and we found Cyan in Doma. He's gone for Thamasa, Edgar's in Jidoor, Sabin was gonna check around South Figaro, and I found Gau on my way here. Setzer's still in the _Falcon_."

Terra was surprised by the name. "_Falcon_...? Falcon Flyer."

Celes nodded. "Yeah," she confirmed. "My reaction exactly. Gau went up to keep him busy."

"I see." Terra sat down on the bed. "And that new earpiece is...?"

"Links to the airship," Celes replied. "I have _no idea_ how that Darill girl managed to make this thing long-range."

A smile from Terra. "I'm sure there's something to it," she replied.

With a small sigh, Celes took the seat near the bed again. "Are you not going to come with us?"

"Don't," Terra insisted, her smile vanishing. "You know my answer."

"Kefka's not going to take himself down," Celes insisted. "You and Locke are the only ones unaccounted for, and I'm pretty sure I'll find him if I hang around Kohlingen. We need to deal with him." She reached into the pocket of her robe, drawing out the small tube that Haku Ryu had called Ultima. "This isn't my weapon. I'll never be able to use something so... _arcane_. We need you, Terra."

The dancer shook her head. "I can't," she insisted. "You know I can't. I'll only burden you, and I can't leave these children behind. You _know_ that."

Lady Frost stepped forward. "Are you seriously not going to help us?" she demanded. "You'll have us deal with him ourselves? You could take him on single-handedly if you would take _that_ off." She pointed Ultima at the lock around Terra's neck - Alexander's padlock.

Terra paled. "Celes..."

"Hmm?" Celes raised an eyebrow.

"That blade is _finicky_ about how you draw it."

Celes turned her gaze back to the weapon, and realized with alarm that she had one end pointed at Terra's heart and the other pointed at her head. She was holding it like a pen, and it would only be a short shift from a pen-grip to a blade-grip. Panicking, she released it, letting it tumble to the floor.

Terra sighed, leaning down and picking it up before setting it into Celes' pocket. "I know you want my help," she assured her. "But I'd be worse than useless. I feel like... I'm close to something. I don't even know what."

"Then let _me_ help _you_," Celes argued. "I'm sure I can-"

The door flew open, and both of them turned to see Cress had run in, with an expression of horror.

"Lady Dances, it's Humbaba!"

"_Merd__é,_" Celes muttered, grabbing an Icebrand and a Thunderblade from Terra's bed.

Terra was shocked to see her moving. "You can't-!"

"You're in no condition to be fighting him!" Celes argued. "You stay here with the kids!" She slung the weapons across her shoulders and took off up the stairs, rounding the bookcase and drawing the weapons before throwing the door open.

Humbaba was there again, and this time he looked serious - gas was pumping out of his mouth and a tube sticking out of his neck, and Celes knew - from her training - that it would weaken anyone it touched. Upon seeing Lady Frost standing there, the slug monster only laughed menacingly. "What?" he taunted. "She doesn't have the stones to fight me herself, now?"

"Au contraire," Celes retaliated. "I told her to remain behind, for I know _I_ can stop you, and I will not let her weaken herself."

"You think you can stop me, huh?" Humbaba mused. "This should be good. I'm wise to your tricks, now! Let's see what else you got up your sleeve!"

Celes reached under her armour's collar, drawing up her neck gaiter to guard her face - although she knew it would only delay the gas' effect, if that - before drawing her shield and Thunderblade. She charged forward, volting the blade, but Humbaba lashed his hand forward, knocking the blade out of her hands and causing it to impale above the doorway of the building she had just left. She drew her Icebrand and chilled it, striking his still-extended arm, but he only shattered the ice with his other hand before knocking the sword earthward. Lady Frost lashed her shield at him, but his body was too thick for the unconventional attack to give her the advantage, and he grabbed the shield and tried to throw it above him.

It was still strapped to her arm, and Celes gave a shout of pain as he threw _her_ skyward, nearly ripping her arm out of its socket in the process. This left her helpless in midair, and Humbaba promptly lashed his hand skyward, slamming a wicked slug into her side that sent her tumbling. It was only fortune that she slammed into the earth on her shoulder and not on her head, and as she tried to rise, Humbaba grabbed her by the arm and threw her into the nearest building, leaving her trapped in the wood. She managed to force herself out of the building as he tried to punch her again, sticking his hand through the structure; but by now she was starting to suffer the effects of his gaze, and as she started towards her fallen Icebrand she knew it was a desperate hope.

Unless...

She turned round and raised her shield, blocking a punch. 'Blocking' here being used generously, for the blow to the battle plate sent her skidding across the ground near the kids' refuge. Celes groaned, reaching for the pocket Terra had gone for and grabbing the Ultima; then she drew it out, preparing to grip it and draw the blade.

Humbaba punched her arm, and Celes _screamed_ as the blow broke something in her limb, sending her spinning and throwing the weapon out of reach.

Then he grabbed the limb and drew her forward, and Celes had no chance to react before he slammed a punch into her back _mid-flight_, slamming her into the earth.

Terra was hearing the fight the whole time, worried - but when she heard Celes scream, she made up her mind. She grabbed both Flametongues, strapping them onto her back, and charged through the basement, not thinking to warn the kids to stay below. The door was still open, and she saw Celes hit the earth, trapped within the attacker's gas; then she stormed under the doorway, drawing her swords and hurling them forward at once.

Humbaba raised his gaze in time to get a face full of crimson blades, and he yelped, recoiling. Upon seeing Terra, he only laughed, swinging his arms wide. "Decided to come play after all, huh?"

He lashed one hand forward.

Terra lashed a spinning kick round to meet it, and voltage ripped through the limb causing Humbaba to pull back. She quickly turned round, whirling her arm before her to form ice in the air; then she hurled the frost forward, the ice soaking up the noxious gas and knocking the slug monster back. Humbaba screeched, pulling away, and Terra knelt down, picking up the small tube that had appeared there.

The slug monster roared at her from ten paces back. "What the hell are you?"

There it was - that question she still wasn't sure how to answer - and as Terra gazed at the weapon in her hands she had a feeling it would stay that way for a long time.

Cracks began to race along the links holding Alexander's padlock around her neck.

"...I don't know."

Humbaba was confused. "What?"

"I don't know!"

The attacker stormed forward. "The hell you don't-"

"I _DON'T **KNOW!**_"

She closed her hand around the lock and pulled, and the chain _shattered_, the links flying in every directions as her body was _consumed_ in a blinding inferno. Celes raised her gaze in a shock as the light receded, revealing a figure of white nova, wrapped in hot pink flames, with long hair that blended in the blaze. Her eyes were spheres of lapis lazuli, piercing through the vibrant fire, and her mouth was filled with sharpened fangs; her feet were suspended just off the ground, one forward, the other perpendicular to it.

She still had Alexander's padlock in one hand, and the weapon from Roku Okoku in the other.

**But of this much, I am certain. I care not what _horrors_ you may try to inflict upon me. For it cannot _possibly_ compare to that which I have _already_ suffered. And I will endure _so much more_ than _that_ to keep these children safe.**

Her grip shifted on the weapon, and vibrant blue _surged_ from the handle, a massive blade - nearly white aqua in the core, but fading to deep sapphire around the edges.

**I am Terra Branford! Daughter of Maduin Fuwa, descendant and final practitioner of the Sixth Kingdom. And I _swear_, on the padlock of Alexander that kept my mother Madeline from insanity, I _will_ protect this place! You have my word, if _any_ would dare to harm this village, or these people, they will _suffer..._**

She raised her hands and weapon above her head and lashed them down at her sides, as she had with her blades before it.

**...amidst my dances with swords.**

Humbaba realized too late what he was getting into, and turned to run away.

Terra allowed no such thing; her feet touched down on the earth, and she skidded them back, one-two, hurling crimson blazes forward. One ignited the gas around him; the other threw him skyward, high above the buildings of Mobliz. She lashed her hand skyward, forming a ring of fire around him; then she brought it down so that her fist was before her chest, and the slug monster was consumed in a hellious _explosion_, lighting the damaged city like the brightest of fireworks.

Then she shot from the earth, bringing her weapon into a skyward spiral, and the charred husk of Humbaba was torn through by the blade of Ultima, and culled from this world.

Celes watched in amazement as Terra so flawlessly ruined the village's attacker. Slowly, she tried to get to her feet while Terra was still in the air; but she remembered her broken arm only after she had tried to support herself on it, and a cry of pain ripped from Lady Frost as she fell to the earth again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the children that Terra had been protecting gathering near the window of the house where everyone was gathered, Katarin and Duane just coming up from behind the bookcase.

Then the daughter of Maduin descended, Ultima still in hand, the light of the Sixth Kingdom's magic appearing upon her as she prepared to tend Celes' wounds.

A screech of terror stopped whatever arcana she had been about to use, and she turned in shock as the children took cover; Katarin and Duane ducked behind the bookcase again. Her grip on her weapon vanished, the blade vanishing as the handle fell to the earth, and a saddened gasp tore between her lips; tears of red fire began to well in her eyes, and she stumbled back, away from Celes, before falling to her knees, bowing her head.

Celes tried to speak.

One of the children beat her to it.

"Lady?"

Terra turned towards the building. A young girl was standing at the doorway, with gentle teal hair and soft green eyes. Against whispered protests from the other children of "Cuore, what are you-?" she stepped forward, hesitant. "You're... Lady Dances, aren't you?" she asked.

**Cuore...**

Slowly, the other children began to step out from behind their covers, arriving at the door, as the girl, Cuore, continued towards Terra. Slowly, she reached for the dancer's arm - and though Terra shied away, scared of burning the child, the girl showed no pain as her hand entered the pink flames, and she set it over Terra's own.

"It's okay."

Terra's tears of fire began to flow - but now, a smile adorned her face, and those blazes were tears of joy. **I...**

The other kids were stepping forward, and as Celes watched, they all reached through the pink flames, setting their hands on Terra's body. A gasp of joy passed through Terra's lips as she looked around at the children before her. Cautious, Katarin and Duane stepped forward, but the children surrounding her stopped them from getting close enough to touch, and they could only watch as Terra bowed her head before her.

**I think I get it now.** **This is what I've been missing. Someone who accepts me for what I am... Someone I can hold dear.**

She started to rise, and the children all pulled back as she got to her feet; the magic reappeared on her hands, and she held a hand towards Celes as sparks began to flow from her. Slowly, Celes felt the breaks in her arm begin to restore themselves, and when she tried to put weight on it again, she found only sensitivity - as though she had been laying her head on it as she slept - as she got to her feet.

"I think you've got more than your fair share," she told Terra.

The dancer laughed, and that joyous sound echoed around Mobliz as she bowed her head.

**I'll join you,** she told Celes. **I'll come with you, and we'll stop him - and we'll make sure that the torment that befell this village never hurts anyone again!**

Duane stepped forward. "Lady Dances... you're leaving?"

**I won't be long,** Terra assured them, turning to the children. **I'll be back in no time at all, I promise!**

Cuore, knelt down, picking up that which had fallen from Terra's hands; as the dancer turned to her, she held it out. "I think this is yours, Lady Dances."

Terra accepted it carefully, holding it before her; then she (carefully) lowered it at her side as Katarin stepped forward. "We'll take care of them while you're gone," she told her. "Be careful."

Celes smiled before reaching for her ear - and was concerned when she found the ear empty. "Um..." She glanced around, wondering where it might have landed, before turning to Terra. "I can't call for a pickup. I'm gonna need a lift."

A giggle escaped Terra's lips. **Don't worry.** She stepped forward - and Celes was concerned when the dancer slipped an arm around her waist and dug her foot under her pauldrons. **Hold on.**

"To what?!"

She didn't have time to ask further before Terra lifted off the ground. The kids all waved her goodbye, and she waved back with the hand that held Ultima before she took Celes higher, and faster. The _Falcon_ was doing laps around the Veldt - and though nothing could have convinced Celes that Setzer hadn't noticed the explosion from Terra blazing Humbaba, she was worried when Dances took her past the airship while its stern was turned to them. "Where are we going?"

**You said we'd find Locke if we hung around Kohlingen!** Terra reminded her.

"You can't fly into Kohlingen all pinks blazing!" Celes protested.

Terra only laughed, continuing to soar, and Lady Frost found herself gripping the dancer tightly as they flew.

+x+x+x+

It was dark when they touched down in the sands between Castle Figaro and Kohlingen.

Celes stumbled away, a little stunned from the flight, as Terra let her flames recede. Both of them were slightly disappointed when the last blazes vanished, and Terra was sitting on the sands, skyclad.

"That's going to pose a problem," Frost observed.

"Father said it would stop happening when I got used to the transformation," Dances replied. "But that's my third time, and it's still not working." A pause; then she held a hand before her, arcana lighting up around her. "I wonder..."

She swept a hand before her, and _snow_ trailed from it forming a line in the air. As Celes watched, Terra swept her hand around her, and snow began to approach her from nowhere, slowly forming around her body. When it faded, she was wearing a robe not unlike her old one - except this one was covered in floral patterns around the edges.

"That's kind of cool," Celes admitted.

Terra giggled. "It's kind of fun."

The two of them made their way to Kohlingen, arriving on the approach to midnight. The two of them managed to avoid attracting attention (helped by the fact that they had forgotten their swords and Celes' shield in Mobliz) as Celes led Terra to the graveyard where Locke had shown her Rachel's grave.

Some cutthroat made the mistake of trying to rush them from behind.

Terra whirled into a spin, augmenting his momentum and hurling him forward. There was a small building not far from the graveyard that he nearly slammed into; the would-be attacker turned round, charging them with a switchblade in either hand. Celes pried his knives out of his hands, her armoured gauntlets stopping them from hurting her before he lost his grip. Terra shoved him back towards the building, causing him to fall against the door, and Celes promptly charged him, landing a fierce shoulder tackle that knocked him and her through the door and into the floor on the other side; then Terra kicked him in the leg, rocking him with enough voltage to send him plummeting into unconsciousness.

Celes got to her feet, swinging her hands to try and discharge the resulting static; then she and Terra shared amused grins.

"Well this is awkward."

Both of them turned to see a familiar face leaning against a counter; he had a note in one hand, and was wearing a grin like someone who had walked in on his parents wrapping Christmas presents and seen something he was eager to open.

"Stock!" Celes exclaimed.

"Frost. Dances." Locke pulled himself off the counter. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think we're doing here?" Terra argued. "We're looking for you. We..." Her gaze fell to the note in the treasure hunter's hand, and after a moment she asked, "What... what is that?"

Locke sighed, holding the note out; Celes accepted it with a bare hand (that neither of the others had noticed her take the gauntlet off of), looking over it - and what she read sent a shock through her.

_Dear Locke,  
I hope that you never have to read this. This is something I want to say to you myself - and if I can, I will see this letter cast to fire. But I don't want my last words to you to be those words of hatred. And if fate would be so cruel that I cannot see you again, at least you can know how I really feel.  
I am sorry for the way I reacted when you showed me what you really were in that cave. You saved my life, and I am ever grateful for that - but the horror of a near-death experience had clouded my judgement. I was wrong to insult you. To flee from you. I understand that now.  
When I had calmed down, I went back to that cave. I found the ring you had placed there. I know now what you were trying to do. And I can say with all sincerity that my answer is yes.  
But if I can see you again, I will say nothing of this. I will let you take me to that cave again, and answer your question myself.  
And so if you are reading this, I am sorry - but I have departed this world, and await you in the next.  
I don't want you to hurry to me. If someone else comes into your life, if there's someone who tries to reach for you, I ask that you reach back. Live your life. You deserve better than to cling to the memory of a girl who panicked and turned on you. If you're reading this, then I want you to try and find someone who deserves your heart.  
And if you can't... then I'll accept it when I see you again.  
Love,  
~Rachel_

Terra found herself reading the note over Celes' shoulder - and although she had not heard the story from Locke or Celes, she understood enough that neither of them would want to share it. Celes looked between the note and Locke before gasping, "This..."

"I found it in Rachel's old place," he admitted. "I went digging. I decided knowing lies and wilful ignorance weren't going to sate me after all. And I'm glad I did."

The three of them shared a moment of silence.

"Where are the others?" Locke asked. "I found something you guys are gonna want see."

* * *

Draco: Well, on the plus side, this is one of (I think) only _two_ chapters of _any_ fic I have written to break 9000 words. On the minus side, I didn't break 10000 words, and that sucks. Damn.

I wanted to use the original track name for this one. I really did. _But_ I said I was going to use OverClocked track names for this fic, and I haven't had enough difficulty to betray that, so no such luck.


	46. The 6th Kingdom

Draco: I will forever have the vocal intro of this track embedded into my mind.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**The 6th Kingdom**

"Where are you taking us?"

Cyan earlier observations about group size and mobility had not been unfounded. Their previous endeavours with caverns had been with small groups, and had been managed easily. Now, the eleven of them - Terra, Celes, Locke, Edgar (with crossbow and chainsaw prepared), Sabin, Cyan, Gau, Setzer, Relm, Strago, and Shadow (with Interceptor having been instructed to wait in the Falcon) - were worming their way through a series of tunnels not far from Kohlingen, Stock Barrel at the lead with a torch in hand, and their pace was indisputably slower. Lady Frost had a sneaking suspicion that this place was (at least connected to) the cave where he had brought Rachel, but she said nothing.

"I was killing time in a few different caves," Locke replied in responded to Sabin's question, "trying to find something of interest. I'd never been down this tunnel until last week - and I found something you guys wouldn't believe if I told you about it."

Terra raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it," she reprimanded.

Locke shrugged; then he raised a hand, causing the group to come to a stop. "Here," he insisted. "We have arrived."

Celes glanced around. Locke's torch had been just about enough to make out the walls of the tunnel as they made their way through, but she was surprised to find that they could not see the cave around them anymore. "Locke... what are we supposed to be seeing?"

"We're out in the open," Relm observed. "But... it's too dark to see anything."

"I had to get pretty close with a torch to make anything out," Locke admitted. "Terra, I think you should be able to light this place up a bit."

Terra was surprised by his suggestion. "Why do you say that?"

Locke turned to her. "Would it kill you to try?"

"Not if I'm careful," Terra sighed. She stepped ahead of him, holding one hand out as the glow of her arcana traced her body.

A sphere of white appeared in the air over her palm - bright enough that everyone had to cover their eyes for a moment as their eyes tried to adjust.

"That's pretty bright," Sabin mused. "Why haven't you done that before?"

"I'm not doing this," Terra insisted.

"Wait, what?"

Terra shook her head. "I just... reached for my magic. I hadn't even thought of a way to give it form. This is... powerful. But I didn't try to do this. This just-"

She was cut off when the light turned into a crimson flame, causing her to yelp and pull her hand away; the blaze shot skyward, a single bolt of fire arcing into the air. When it was only a speck did it seem to vanish, replaced by a whirling cobalt wave that caused everyone to reach for their weapons.

Then that wave condensed in on itself, flashing bright enough to blind them - and when they could see, all of them were amazed.

Anyone would swear they were outside in the sun if not for the lack of _source_ for the light by which they saw. They were standing on a grassy surface before a _massive castle_. For a brief moment, Terra was worried they had found where Alexander had set into the earth after Gestahl had attacked him; there she realized that there was no way _this_ was a Feymarch warrior, for it had suffered too much. The stone surfaces were covered in cracks from war, several towers were collapsed, and there was a massive sigil on the wall above the entryway arch - a blade with a slightly jagged edge, held horizontal, with a Roman numeral before it.

_VI_

"No way..." Terra turned to Locke. "This is..."

Locke nodded. "I think so, yes," he confirmed. "This is the castle of the Sixth Kingdom."

Celes shook her head, incredulous. "No way," she murmured. "_This_ is what you wanted to show us?"

"This isn't even the best part," Locke replied. "Come on in."

He started towards the castle archway, and the others followed him with varying degrees of hesitation.

There was an antechamber before they got to any significant hall, just long enough for a series of paintings adorned the walls - and the same sourceless light that illuminated the castle's exterior was shining in here. More than half of the group was surprised at the first one on the left - a siren with rainbow wings. Gau gave a worried cry. "That..."

Locke nodded. "Yep," he confirmed. "That's him."

Strago looked at the title adorned below it. "_Tri-Disaster: Valigarmanda_," he read; then, in smaller letters below, "_(addressed as 'Tritoch' by younglings)._" Across from the siren was what looked like a crow tengu with a long lance. "_Sonic Diver: Quetzalli (addressed as 'Palidor' by younglings)._" Then a werewolf with spheres of light in each hand. "_Howling Moonlight: Fenrir_." A slug monster that looked more like a serpent than a slug. "_Abyssal Maw: Midgardsormr (addressed as 'Terrato' by younglings)._" A succubus laid upon a sea of blue velvet, identifiable as such only by the tips of her wings. "_Embracing Allure: Lakshmi (addressed as 'Starlet' by younglings)._" A pair of swords crossed behind a shield, with what looked like a small fairy perched upon the top edge of it. "_Guarded Blades: Zantetsu._"

"Zantetsu?" Terra exclaimed, turning to Strago as he read the last caption.

"Something of it?" Locke asked.

Terra exchanged glances with Celes, uncertain whether to speak of Ultima (whose box at the Imperial palace had been labelled 'Zantetsu'); Lady Frost (who had seen the box when she had collected swords of her own) only gave her a look to say 'not now' before turning to Locke. "Odin," she told him. "The Steel-Reaving Sword of Feymarch. More... how do I put this? _r__itualistic_ speakers say his title as 'Zantetsuken'." Beckoning to the painting; "Maybe that line about Odin founding the Kingdoms had some credit to it, after all."

"I don't think that's the king," Locke insisted.

"And why not?" Cyan asked.

Locke only beckoned them to follow him further. They were at the end of the antechamber, and he pushed the doors open to reveal a great throne room. The thrones were near to the furthest wall, upon which was a mighty painting of a man in dark armour with a horned helm, bat wings adorning the pauldrons, gauntlets, and greaves; a straight-edged katana was in his right hand, and he was seated upon a great steed of necrous white with a mane of nightsky blue. A fiery aura in vibrant red had been painted around him, and his backdrop was a night sky.

There was a caption beneath this as well, and as the group arrived at the entrance Strago advanced towards the painting until he was close enough to read it between the thrones.

"_Lord __Odin come to earth, King Raiden, founder of this Kingdom."_ He stepped back, looking up at the painting. "Brave words."

"It's like Maduin said," Edgar observed. "It's not necessarily Odin - just praise towards the true king."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Setzer mused. "The unworldly steed, the horned helm, a blade not suited for horseback but no less deadly for it - it's possible he went by a different name, and simply did not see fit to correct them when they called him a reincarnation."

"Hast thou never seen artists embellish their royals in their work?" Cyan inquired. "We cannot be certain he truly appeared so similar."

Celes raised a hand, and the group went quiet.

Strago stepped away from the thrones. "I'm sure there must be a reason you wanted us to see this place," he told Locke, "and I doubt it had to do with the paintings."

"You see right through me," Locke reprimanded. "It's kind of creepy."

"Well," Terra prompted, "what now?"

Locke made his way past Strago, setting one hand on the throne to his right. His other hand reached behind it, and there was a faint _click_ \- then something tremored to the right, and everyone turned towards it. Terra went to raise her hands to dance before Celes stayed her arm; the others didn't notice, being too distracted by the wall immediately beside a doorway pulling away to reveal _another doorway_.

"Now that's clever," Relm mused.

"How so?" Edgar asked.

The artist dashed towards the pre-existing entry, looking into the room beyond. "This hall goes straight to the castle walls," she explained, turning back. "It looks like the door's just set into a really thick wall. Which means through here..."

The others followed her as she led the way through the opening that Locke had revealed; it followed within the 'really thick wall' and straight up to the castle walls before descending into a spiral staircase (with a few missing steps that had everyone cautious). It didn't go very deep, however - there was no more distance between the floor they had left and the floor they stepped upon than there would be between any other two floors in the castle.

It was a small room - enough for all of them to stand there at once and still see their prize, but no more. There was a wall covered in weapons, braced upon a series of hooks; a knife that was sharper than anyone had seen before, an arced edge that looked to be a throwing weapon of sorts, a quarterstaff that also looked like a walking staff, and a blade somewhere between a dagger and a sword. There was also a table before it, and upon that table, leaning against the wall, was a shield with a flawless platinum surface, with two swords sheathed crossed behind it.

"That's..." Relm glanced at the stairway they had come down, remembering the painting, before turning back to them. "That's from that painting!"

"Yeah," Locke mused. "Looks like it. And all these weapons... they're something else." He turned to the others. "If we're gonna take on Kefka, we better take him on full-force. And Roku Okoku was a home for people descended from the Sixth Kingdom, wasn't it? Then we should use that Kingdom's power against it."

Shadow glanced around the selection with a snicker. "All looks pretty tough," he admitted. "Are you sure we're not gonna get in trouble for taking any of this?"

Locke raised an eyebrow at him. "The weapons of a long-dead kingdom?" he asked. "They'd be better off used for a fight than collecting dust down here."

_Do you see any dust on me?_

The sourceless voice caused everyone to turn back to the wall of weapons. The shield was shining, and as they watched the surface rippled like water as something emerged from it. A minute, feminine figure in a torn dress, with damaged wings resembling those of a butterfly; no sooner had the last of her body parted from the surface than she collapsed onto the surface like she had fallen.

Slowly, Terra stepped forward. "Are you... Zantetsu?" she asked.

The figure smirked grimly, raising her gaze to them. "One of many names that I have been called by," she admitted. "That was the one my king called me, and so his artist titled my painting as such. If you do not mind, however, I prefer to be called 'Ragnarok'."

"The sword?" Celes asked. "Your swords are the legendary blade, Ragnarok?"

"A name for a weapon of sufficient power," the artifact spirit mused. "Hardly borne by only one." She bowed her head. "You who would use these weapons..."

Locke now felt incredibly guilty for what he had said. "I'm sorry," he insisted. "I didn't realize-"

"Don't," Ragnarok insisted. "You sound like you have reasons to. I will not ask them - I have not the strength."

Celes was horrified - this sounded all too much like Valigarmanda's last words. "What do you mean?"

"My swords and shield were carried by King Raiden when his own edge would not suffice," Ragnarok replied. "But the last war of our Kingdom saw all of us crippled. Valigarmanda imprisoned in his own flaming ice... Lakshmi bound to her perch of velvet and set alight... Quetzalli struck mid-flight by our foes' lightning... Fenrir lured to a dark cavern and run through... Midgardsormr weighted and sunk into the sea... And the King..." She shook her head. "I failed him. My blades shattered against his enemies' armour, and my guard could not stop their blows. With the last of his power, he restored my edges and my plate, and returned me here. _They_ are as strong as ever... but **I** will not survive long."

"No...!" Terra was shocked. "Can't we-?"

"Don't dare you try," Ragnarok warned. "I know your magic is the same as that of our Kingdom's warriors. Six of our finest sorcerers tried to heal me, and only for that have I survived this long. And all of them died in the attempt." She looked up to Terra again. "If you wish to do something for me, then take these weapons, and use them."

The swords bared just slightly from their sheaths, drawing their attention. One had a blade of gold with black edges, the other a platinum blade adorned in patterns of magic.

"My king called the shield Paladin," the spirit told them, "for it protected him from all until that day. The gold sword was christened Ragnarok, and cast the flames of hell; the arcane was Lightbringer, and blinded his foes with holy light. Use them. That is all I will ask."

Then she closed her eyes; and her body was wrapped in light, and faded to nothing.

The eleven of them shared a moment of silence; then Terra and Celes stepped towards the shield. Terra set her left hand on the handle of the gold blade, and Celes gripped the arcane one with her right; at once they drew the swords from their sheaths, turning to one another and bracing the swords forward. Ragnarok felt _warm_ in Terra's hands, and its edge seemed to _tremor_ in its hilt; Lightbringer glowed in the darkness of the room, illuminating Celes' face with a shimmer that made it seem _eerie_.

"You should take Paladin."

Celes was caught off-guard by Terra's words. "What?"

"I can't work with a shield," Dances insisted. "Not the way you can. I need the flexibility of a pair of blades." She took Ragnarok's sheath from behind the battle plate and slid her sword into it before bracing it across her back; Frost sheathed Lightbringer and braced it at her hip before picking up the shield. Paladin had ceased glowing when the spirit had faded, but it was surprisingly light for its build

Then the two of them turned to the others, and beckoned to the wall of weapons.

"Choose," Terra insisted.

Strago elected to take the staff; it had a deep crystal ball on one end, surrounded by six claw-like figures, and by the time they were done choosing weapons he had enchanted it to hold his coins. Shadow took the knife, and Locke took the throwing edge; when none of the others made an effort to take the remaining blade, the treasure hunter lifted it from the wall and held it before him, leaning it from side to side.

"That's... gonna take some getting used to," he mused, swinging it low. "It's not heavy like a sword, and it's too long to use like a dagger."

"You gonna leave it behind?" Edgar asked.

"Of course not," Locke protested, sheathing it and strapping it to his back.

+x+x+x+

They had hardly entered the throne room again when something exploded outside.

Shadow was already through the antechamber and forcing the door open open by the time the others had recovered from the sound and left the throne room. A massive ring of grass was set alight, smoke rising from it, and already moving around it were three figures that struck terror into everyone.

Their bodies were similar between the three of them - twin horns emerging from beneath their hair, dark arms ending with hands adorned in scales, and bared chests marked with a deep gash, in the center of which was something that looked like a jewel... or an eye. One was covered in armour aside from his forearms and his hands, in which he carried a lance bladed with shining white; one was adorned in hardened black leather with a tail-esque figure emerging from his back, his hands occupied by a jet-black katana; one was dressed in gold waves of fabric, crimson hair flaying about her head, with minute blades orbiting her hands, which were wrapped in spell papers.

The three of them were locked in fierce combat, each aiming to fell both of the others; if ever two of them struck the third, it was only because two were locked against one another, and the third had a better shot at one than the other. Magic the likes of which Terra could only dream of casting flew from their every movements, and their weapons rang out with murderous notes every time they clashed. The smoke in the burning grass had everyone feeling weak, and the warriors did not even seem to notice the eleven of them standing there.

Locke was the first to act, hurling the throwing weapon forward. It threw the smoke aside, clattered off the spear and katana, and rattled against the tiny edges before hitting the ground, and all three of the fighting warriors turned to them. Terra started when she saw what the smoke had obscured - all three of them were covered in a multitude of chains, and each link of those chains was marked with a cross. Three padlocks marked with crosses hung from those chains on each of the three figures - but each padlock hung from a single end-link on the chain, and for each padlock there was another link, somewhere, that was mangled and torn.

All three of them lashed a hand towards Locke.

In an instant, Celes was in front of him, thrusting Paladin forward, and the magic collided with her shield and _surged_ in every direction but towards her allies, silencing the flames across the grass before them. Terra got to her feet, drawing Ragnarok and pulling Ultima from her pocket as Celes drew Lightbringer, and the others took it as a cue to draw their own weapons.

"Those locks," Frost mused, her voice quiet. "You think-?"

"I _know_," Dances confirmed. Then to everyone; "Keep them busy!"

Sabin charged forward, rushing the armoured fighter without bothering to shift his hands. The warrior thrust his spear forward, but Fist sidestepped the attack and backhanded the shaft of the weapon, throwing it up as Edgar leapt forward with spiked legs. The machinist grabbed the spear midflight, dragging the opponent to the ground, and Shadow emerged from nowhere, driving his blade down with such speed that the fighter had to roll aside and still lost a few hairs. Locke skated round him close enough to kick him in the arm before charging the leather-clad fighter, the half-sword from the castle armoury in a backhand grip to give it more momentum as he brought it round for a skyward swing. The samurai lashed his katana down, and the edges collided with one another before a hand of cards collided with it, catching him off-guard. Cyan lashed his own katana skyward against the weapon; Fang's surprise attack and Stock's already-present momentum caused the fighter to loosen his grip. Gau flew overhead with siren's wings, kicking the hilt of the blade to knock it earthward before hurling sharpened feathers at the gold-wrapped fighter; the woman only raised her arms, causing the flechettes to ricochet off of them before she leapt towards him. Roar only barrel-rolled to the side, leaving an opening for Strago and Relm to charge forward; Blue caught the falling strike on his staff, leaving Angel to strike the fighter with the old man's coin sword.

Her retaliation knocked the coins from Relm's hands, causing them to scatter towards the spearman. Edgar had draw his chainsaw to contend, and the coins clattering against the warrior's face caught him off-guard enough for Edgar to slash at his high hand. The grip left him lacking control of his weapon enough to avoid Sabin's fist to the stomach, and Shadow quickly kicked off Gear's chainsaw (which would leave Fist wondering _how_ for the next good while) before kicking the fighter in the face. Terra charged forward at this time, with Celes close behind her; Dances quickly pinned his lance close to the earth with Ragnarok before slamming a hand into his chest, magic arcing across him. Her hands grabbed the padlocks, finding the chains they were linked to cracked to frailty; she quickly shattered the links and clipped the locks onto the next link on that side before going for the mangled ones.

A close rattling against Paladin caused her to turn to see the ranger was already on her feet, and Frost had only just succeeded in blocking the launched blades. With a kick full of voltage to the spearman's arm, Terra got to her feet, prying Ragnarok out of the earth. The scattered coins were hurled towards Strago, who managed to reform the coin sword one-handed, while contending with a few deflections of his own. Blue quickly handed it to the artist, and Gau dived in just long enough to get Angel away from the next shot before taking off. Roar quickly cried out from so close as to stun the woman as Terra and Celes charged forward; Frost quickly slammed the flat of her shield into the fighter's head as Dances tackled her to the ground alight with arcana. The mangled links were quickly torn off of the corresponding chains, and she shattered the frail link connected to one padlock before clipping it to the next link on that side and raising it to the nearest empty link, connecting it with a _clink_.

Locke's shout caused her to turn; the treasure hunter barely succeeded in landing on his feet after being thrown back by the swordsman, leaving Cyan and Setzer to contend with him. With a groan of annoyance, Terra hurled a shot of ice at the woman's face before charging forward, picking up Ragnarok again and charging forward. Falcon saw her coming and hurled a handful of dice at the fighter's feet, leaping away as Cyan tried to disarm him. This kept him distracted enough that he didn't notice Dances coming up behind him; she quickly slipped the gold blade between his hilt and his hand and gave a fierce twist, forcing the katana to the earth. Celes tackled him to the ground, causing him to land on his weapon's handle; Terra didn't even wait for her to get off before slamming a palm of magic into his stomach. The mangled chain links were ripped off, and she quickly locked the padlocks where they had been before tearing off two cracked links and grabbing the next ones on those chains.

By sheer reflex did she grab Ragnarok and brace it across her back as the ranger's minute blades bounced off of it - she had recovered sooner than they had hoped. Frost had to raise Paladin to stop a throw of the lancer's spear, and no sooner had it collided then it returned to its owner's hand. The swordsman promptly kicked the dice nearby, and Terra and Celes leapt aside as they exploded, leaving all three of their opponents to get to their feet. The smoke had returned - gradually, but now it was there - and nobody looked like they were in any condition to fight, save for the trio of warriors around them.

"You've got to be Mulching me," Celes protested.

Terra glanced at the three of them. The ranged had one lock closed, and the rest of the cracked links were still there; the spearman had his mangled links still hanging, with none of his locks sealed; the swordsman had one cracked link still there, and Terra had somehow managed to close the other two chains on _each other_.

She remembered the sphere of light and the bolt of fire that had appeared when she had first lit this cave - the power present in both of them, the wave of arcana that had followed them - and she glanced around before turning to Celes.

"Duck."

Frost didn't even question; she threw herself to the ground, and as the Warriors charged them Dances arced into a spin - sword out, hand raised. Three spheres of light flew from her palm, each one slamming into one of the warriors. She stopped when all three had been struck, closing her fingers into a point and whirling Ragnarok to a backhand grip to better flow before arcing into a spin opposite what she had just done; bolts of fire flew rapidly from her fingertips, slamming into the padlocks and then the empty links before striking each warrior between them and drawing the seals to close.

Then Terra whirled Ragnarok above her head and slammed it into the earth beneath her, and _sheer arcana_ emerged around her and Celes, expanding to consume the three warriors before condensing just above her and flashing bright enough to blind everyone present.

A long, deafening silence when the last echoes of the magic had faded.

Then Celes slowly raised her gaze, wary. The three opponents had fallen to their knees; the armoured one had his arms closed around himself as though cold, the leathered one had a hand against his helm as though dizzy, and the one in cloth was fighting to rise - and not succeeding. Terra herself had managed to get to her feet, but she was shaking as she stood; Celes carefully pulled Ragnarok from a grip that was hardly holding it and slid it into the sheath on its wielder's back.

The others were still gathered around them, but weak; slowly, Locke got to his feet, stepping forward warily on his bladed feet. "Who are you three?" he demanded, his half-sword still in hand.

His words seemed to spur them to action; the three combatants got to their feet, stepping away form the castle and towards the entrance to the tunnel that led there. The ranger at front, the swordsman behind her to her right, the spearman beside him to his left; and when they spoke, it was at once, their voices strengthening one another such that they seemed to be one voice.

"I am Crusader. We are Kishin. In that greatest of monstrous wars, we each served as a second to one of the Yasha hailed as the Warring Triad - Demon, Fiend, Goddess. At the crux of that war, they agreed to seal themselves in stone, to create a safe haven for monsters - and we refused to let them slumber on their own. The madman ruined their seal, and roused them from their slumber; but the gateway had been ruined before they had woken, and so the haven has become a prison - for him, and for them."

Locke glanced at the others before turning to the three again. "What has become of the Warring Triad?"

"The madman cannot escape himself, but he was able to force us through the severed link. This ruined our holy seals, which drove us to madness and clouded our memories. If ever we saw what happened to our lords, we can no longer recall."

Celes turned to them. "What will you do now?" she demanded.

"If you intend to see that madman ruined, we will see you through to his prison; however, know that we cannot guarantee you will safely return. If this risk you will take, meet us at the cavern where our lords dictated their truce... and prepare yourselves for pain like nothing you have felt before."

The swordsman and spearman turned their weapons earthward and drove them into the ground; then the ranger raised her hands, and the spell papers unravelled from them as her minute blades fell to the earth between them.

"We shall await you."

Then they turned to one another, and each took the hand of the other two; and a darkness descended upon them, their bodies becoming shadows that slowly faded out.

Edgar, Cyan, and Shadow stepped towards the weapons they had left behind. The Figaro king carefully gripped the spear and drew it from the earth; the lance was flooded with power, the tip shining menacingly, and as he held it between his hands he found its weight such that he was uncertain how Celes had guarded against it one-handed. Cyan closed both hands on the katana, drawing it from the earth; the blade felt strangely balanced, and when he swung it earthward he was surprised to feel its weight _shift_ to make the swing stronger. Shadow knelt down and picked up one of the minute blades; after a moment, he slipped it into his belt and followed suit with the others, keeping them ready to throw.

Then Terra approached the spell papers, which were glowing menacingly; and when no one stopped her, she knelt down and set one hand on the runes upon it.

And her mind was set alight.

* * *

Draco: _Etro_, these mass-group fight scenes. I feel bad for whoever does the choreography for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, keeping track of this many combatants is _difficult_.

Okay, one for the Last Dungeon remix, one for the Dancing Mad remix, an epilogue, and a closing scene. I might get those last two in the same chapter. This thing WILL be shorter than K+C was, I don't care how close I have to cut it.


	47. Trauermarsch

Draco: Sorry about the delay, I got the vision scene done and just ran into other things. Christmas-y things, mostly. _Nothing_ could convince me that _no one_ at Nintendo was **_on_** something during the conceptual end of _The Legend of Zelda: Tri Force Heroes_. I don't know _who_, and I don't know _what_, but _someone_ was _**on**_ something.

I'd like to shake the hand of the guy who came up with the title for this mix. "Funeral March" is so appropriate for this track.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Trauermarsch**

_The sound of blade against blade._

_The scent of burning flesh._

_The feel of magic in the air._

_A trinity of hellious figures clashed against one another, each aiming to fell both of the others. From their every blow did a wave of hellious fire burst out, striking the armies that surrounded them - and this despite the fact that there already lay below them a plain of charred corpses so broad that the armies were as distant as the spectators in a coliseum, in the center of which was the battle that they would observe._

_There was no remorse on their faces, no matter who the flames struck; they cared no more for the deaths of their allies than those of their enemies._

+x+x+x+

"Terra! **Terra!**"

Celes' voice in her ears forced her eyes open. She was lying where the Crusader had left their weapons; Locke and Celes were kneeling over her, and the others were gathered around them. With a light grunt, she forced herself to a sitting position, grasping her forehead - her mind still felt charred. "I really wish that would stop happening," she murmured.

"What would stop happening?" Locke inquired.

"Never mind," Terra insisted. "How long was I out?"

"You weren't 'out'," Celes corrected. "You just touched the papers, they burned up and you keeled over."

Terra reached for the earth beneath her. There were in fact ashes scattered there, and the grass was warm. With a sigh, she got to her feet, glancing around.

Gau angled his head. "Terra okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Terra confirmed. "I just..." She sighed, glancing up at the Sixth Kingdom's castle. "...We should stay here, for a bit."

Setzer was confused at the notion. "Why?"

In response, Terra held out her hand, letting that magical glow wrap it.

"Oh."

No one saw fit to argue; when Terra received no objection, she only stepped out of the circle and towards the castle.

+x+x+x+

"What an odd place."

Eclipse Fang had located what looked to be a training hall inside the castle. The floor and walls were covered in arcane symbols similar to - but distinct from - those that had covered Valigarmanda and Maduin; there were several dozen targets along each wall bar that which held the door, an army of training dummies with fully segmented limbs and hands propped up against that wall, and enough bokuto hung behind them to equip each of them with two. The whole thing was rather... hardcore.

Cyan was looking over one of the dummies when he heard a familiar voice from the door; "Why is it that every time we stay in a castle, someone spends their time swordfighting?" The samurai raised his gaze to see Desert Gear at the door with his crossbow over his shoulder and his chainsaw (the edge and chain retracted) low at his side, with the Crusader's lance across his back. His tone was at once amused and exasperated, and he looked rather impressed with the hall.

With a roll of his eyes, Cyan got to his feet. "I would assume that keeping mine skills in optimal condition is hardly deserving of thy reprimand."

"It's not reprimand," Edgar argued, stepping towards him. "I just think it's funny."

"When else hast thou seen someone swordfighting in a castle?" Cyan demanded.

"When I got you that wakizashi," the Figaro king replied.

Cyan rolled his eyes. "I needed ensure it would be an improvement over mine kodachi," he protested. "When else?"

"The first time I took Locke and the rest from Figaro to Kohlingen," Edgar mused. "Celes spent the trip with her blade out."

The samurai chuckled. "My, that _doth_ seem to be an issue for thee."

Edgar only laughed at that. "So," he mused, beckoning to the dummies with his chainsaw, "what are all these?"

"I've not an _inkling_," Cyan admitted. "They're fully composed, as though an artist was trying his best to recreate a human, but they are as limp as scarecrows."

"Limper," Edgar observed, lifting one dummy's arm and letting it fall again. "A scarecrow sticks his arms out."

Cyan cuffed him lightly. "I see wise asses run in thy family," he observed.

Edgar chuckled. "You have no idea," he insisted. His gaze narrowed; hooking his crossbow and chainsaw on his back, he lifted the arm again and parted the fingers. "It looks like... some sort of automaton."

"A what?" Cyan inquired.

"A machine," Edgar replied. "They would stand on their own, take the swords from the walls, and fight whoever happened to be training." He kicked the floor lightly. "That must be what these runes are for. Maduin mentioned all the Kingdom's warriors had magic - they would activate these runes, and the dummies would fight."

"Hmm..." The samurai glanced around. "I'd like to ask Terra to attempt to trigger this arcana. Such training would be ideal..."

Edgar shook his head. "I wouldn't," he insisted.

Cyan turned to him. "Is something the matter with her?" he asked.

"No," Edgar replied. "I just don't want you to wreck these things."

This got him another cuff to the shoulder.

+x+x+X+

"How long have you been a painter?"

Angel Brush had stumbled upon what appeared to be the studio of the king's artist, filled with more mediums than she could shake a brush at. She had been most amused to find a canvas situated on a rolling platform, upon a track that circled a massive collection of paints; although there was nothing to propel it normally, she had reasoned that the artist - like the Kingdom's warriors - would have had magic, and decided to entertain herself by using her own magic to animate it.

With the fight against Crusader fresh in her mind, Relm had decided to try and paint the ranger - though she hadn't made it very far when the dark voice had addressed her from behind. She glanced over her shoulder to see the blade for hire standing at the studio's entry; with a smirk, she went back to the canvas, directing the platform over to a bright gold. "Most of my life," she admitted, in response to Shadow's question. "One of the first things I did when I started using magic was fetch a paintbrush."

Shadow chuckled, stepping towards a collection of paintbrushes and running his fingers through the bristles one by one. "You're a Yasha, like your grandfather?"

"He's..." Relm sighed. "He's not really my grandfather," she admitted. "He was a friend of my mom. She passed away before I could even walk. And I don't even remember my dad. Strago says he left Thamasa, like, the day after I was born."

The assassin's hand slowed. "You... didn't answer my question."

Relm rolled her eyes in his direction, dipping her brush into a sharp silver. "Sorta," she admitted. "My dad was a Yasha. My mom was a witch. I got a little bit of both kinds of magic. Strago doesn't want me trying any big stuff until I got witch magic down, but I can make a coin sword, easy."

"I see."

The artist turned towards him. "What about you?" she asked. "I haven't heard _anything_ about you."

"And with good reason," Shadow insisted. "I'm a hired blade. It's easier to get human clients if they don't know you're anything more than human yourself, and I've learned to fight like a human unless I end up fighting a monster. And even then, I usually leave that to Interceptor."

"Your puppy?" Relm was incredulous.

"He knows his way around a knife," Shadow argued.

Relm shook her head incredulously, moving the platform near a vibrant crimson. "So, you're just here on a paycheck, then?"

"No, this one's on me," the assassin replied. "After what that clown has been doing the past year, I want to see him fall. I doubt I'll get to land the killing blow... but I'll be happy just helping you all get him down."

"What about when we do?" Relm inquired. "You gonna go back to working for money?"

Shadow bowed his head. "Perhaps."

The paintbrush stopped, and Relm turned to him. "What do you mean 'perhaps'?" she asked.

"Here," Shadow insisted, changing the subject, "you might want to use this."

He turned towards her and tossed her a small weapon. It was a paintbrush with a broad head, and no two bristles connecting with one another were the same colour. As Relm caught it, she could feel a surprising power of magic from it; a careful look at the handle revealed runes like on the Lightbringer sword Celes had taken, and sweeping her finger through the bristles revealed them to be softer than any brush Relm had ever used. "Woah," she murmured. "That's... powerful."

"If you're working with witch's magic," Shadow observed, "I take it you need a magic object. And you're the only one who hasn't taken a new weapon from this place. Something that powerful should come in handy. Keep it on you."

Relm nodded. "I think I will," she admitted, slipping the brush into her pocket. She went back to her painting, and Shadow departed from the studio.

Only later did she realize that Shadow had been able to identify the magic in the rainbow-headed brush.

+x+x+x+

"You look pensive."

Lady Frost was sitting on the steps of the castle when Phantom Fist found her. She had the Paladin shield in her hands; the remark only prompted her to set it on her back. "I suppose I would," she admitted. "I got a lot to think about."

Sabin took a seat next to her. "I don't suppose you'd like to share?" he offered.

"No," Celes insisted. "I really wouldn't."

The Figaro prince didn't pry. "So..." he mused, beckoning his head towards the _VI_ and sword above the entrance, "you think this place really was Odin's kingdom?"

Celes angled her head. "Well, considering was Alexander was doing in Doma, I wouldn't be _surprised_," she admitted. "But at the same time, after what Ragnarok said, the king sounds too... _mortal_."

"Even after meeting Ramuh?" Sabin asked.

"Did _all_ of you forget he forced my brain to _run on lightning?_" Celes demanded.

Sabin laughed at that.

Celes sighed, raising her gaze towards the grass around the castle. After a long moment, she asked aloud, "What _is_ all that?"

"What's all what?"

"_That_." Celes beckoned to the where Crusader had burned; it was a huge circle of blue that was almost _silver_, and far too much of it was still there. "It shouldn't be that _intact_ after it was burning. And it's changed colour. What kind of grass gets _bright_ after it was on fire?"

The prince chuckled. "Did you feel... weak, while you were in the smoke?"

"I always feel weak when I see smoke," Celes argued. "It reminds me too much of Kefka."

"That wasn't just you," Sabin insisted. "I'm pretty sure this stuff is Tritoch grass."

Celes gave him a look. "Tritoch?" she asked. Glancing back in the door that Sabin had left open; "You mean, like... Valigarmanda?"

"I'd wondered where the name came from," Sabin admitted, a smile on his face. "It's weird stuff." He reached down and plucked a blade, holding it between two fingers - now that Celes had a good look at it, it was a bright gold, not the green of normal grass. "It takes hours for this stuff to burn proper, but it dies as soon as a flame touches it. That's what the silver is - lifeless. If you have enough to make a campfire, it'll keep light from sunset to sunrise. The smoke is a natural depressant."

"So, it's basically opium," Celes observed with disdain.

"Not really," Sabin insisted. "It just makes you feel sleepy, makes your muscles feel sore, the like. I wouldn't be surprised if it would do something to Terra's magic if she was stuck in it for too long."

"Still," Celes protested, "I can't imagine it would be terribly hard for someone to get hooked on it."

Sabin chuckled. "It's hard to find," he assured her. "This is the first time I've seen it firsthand. And that was _not_ a sensation I can get hooked on."

+x+x+x+

"So, you're a bookworm, huh?"

Blue Wizard rolled his eyes irritably at the comment. He had been in the castle library for a few hours when Stock Barrel walked in on him; without comment, the old man went back to his book. "I thought this was the best way to spend my time," he insisted, "considering everyone else seems to be _doing_ things."

Locke only chuckled. "You don't like doing things?" he asked.

"I'm seventy years old," Strago insisted. "It feels nice to do something simple like read a book sometimes."

The treasure hunter glanced at the open page. "A botanic guide?"

"Written by Midgardsormr, no less," Strago mused. "What do you want?"

"I want to know how much you Thamasans know about the Warring Triad," Locke insisted. "Kefka's gonna do something with them. The more we know, the better."

Strago sighed, turning to Locke. "All I can tell you is that he's not going to get _nearly_ as much on the power end without those three," he insisted.

Locke raised an eyebrow. "You mean Crusader?"

"Fiend cast his magic while half-buried a writhing tree," Strago elaborated. "Demon had a serpentine body to trap those who escaped his spells. And Goddess stood upon a petrified face in prayer as she loosed her arcana. Never were those three seen with their seconds at their sides - but their seconds _were_ seen in battle, whenever those they served could not be present."

"The Crusader were the perches," Locke realized.

"Exactly," Strago confirmed. "The tree, the serpent, and the face. Those were Crusader, their forms shifted to serve the Warring Triad. And with the bodies of Kishin at their sides, they would have both close-combat _and_ arcane power. A Yasha is normally limited to one or the other. Or lives for a few thousand years. Now that Crusader had been forced through the link, they will each be lacking one or the other."

Locke loosed a tight breath. "I know for a _fact_ those hits weren't _all_ physical," he argued. "And that woman was _doing things_ with those blades. They had magic."

"Oh, they did," Strago agreed. "But not _great_ magic. Simple arcana, like Celes could achieve if she were so inclined. Terra was able to surpass it against all of them at once. Kishin normally take up arcana if they elect to limit their close-combat abilities, but it takes _centuries_ to get anything exceptional. Those three could have been surpassed by a well-trained witch. The Warring Triad were the spellcasters - the Crusader were the close-combatants."

"Does _anything_ other than a _monstrel_ have a lifespan comparable to humans?" Locke complained. "I feel like I'm gonna die a thousand years before the rest of you."

"It's only a few who live so long," Strago assured him, fighting to not laugh. "Werewolves and yoko are naturally powerful; Kishin and Yasha simply _can_ live long enough to attain comparable levels if they _train_ for it. And all of them pale when compared to a Nosferatu."

"Asura damn it..."

+x+x+x+

Dances With Swords was in the castle antechamber, her body idle. She had seen Sabin step outside and then back in again after talking with Celes, and he had noticed her, but neither had spoken to one another; Terra was simply biding her time, wanting to recover from the images she had seen when she had made contact with the Crusader's spell papers.

She was considering stepping outside to speak with Celes when a voice called, "You haven't been doing much."

Falcon Flyer was coming in from the throne room. Terra offered him a glance, but only turned her gaze back earthward. "I don't really feel like doing much," she admitted.

"There was something in those papers, wasn't there?" Setzer observed.

Terra nodded.

"...Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Dances shook her head.

Setzer sighed. "It's not exactly good to keep things like this locked up," he insisted.

"I'm fine," Terra admitted. "I just... I need a bit to make sense of it." This much was true - the more she thought about that glimpse of war, the more she saw that she hadn't noticed at first.

The gambler hummed thoughtfully.

Terra raised her gaze to the paintings. "We need a name," she mused.

"Huh?"

"A name for the eleven of us," Terra replied. "Well, twelve of us. I think Interceptor's a little more than just Shadow's dog. I can _feel_ something coming from him."

Setzer chuckled when he realized what Terra was talking about. "I was under the impression that, after Kefka was finished, we would be done with this old-school spy game."

"It's not just an old-school spy game any more." Celes' voice caused the others to turn as Lady Frost stepped back into the castle. "The masked names we've been using... they _feel_ right. They're not just callsigns - they're _who we are_. And whoever we are, we need a name to call ourselves."

The pilot sighed. "Well?" he mused, turning to Terra again. "Did you have an idea?"

"I want to use one of the Sixth Kingdom's warriors," Dances insisted. "After Ragnarok let us use her weapons, and the other ones in that armory, I want to honour these people. These warriors." She turned her gaze to Lakshmi's portrait.

"How about... Starlet's Seven?"

Setzer raised an eyebrow. "What in the ever loving-?"

"I like it," Celes admitted. "That just sounds nice to the ears."

The gambler was incredulous. "Where did that even come from?" he demanded. "Lakshmi is a succubus - you can see her wings. Succubi are seducers and illusionists. We're a ragtag bunch of monstrels with a couple badasses involved. And Starlet is the name the _younglings_ called her. We're not children! And what's _more_," he added, "why _seven_ of all numbers? If you must even include a number, we're eleven! Twelve, if you'll include Interceptor. I don't know that we were _ever_ seven. Why would we call ourselves _Starlet's_ **Seven**?"

"Because we're twelve."

The comment caught Setzer off-guard. "Wait, what?"

"If someone hears about Starlet, they're gonna look her up," Terra replied. "Or at least think about some kid actress. Seven is a group too small to pose a major threat, and too large to be inconspicuous. So if anyone hears the name 'Starlet's Seven', then, at the very most, they're going to expect us to _have a succubus_ in a group of seven. The only way that the name connects to us is by the Sixth Kingdom from which we take our weapons."

Setzer stuttered for a moment, trying to come up with an argument, before protesting, "Why not Quetzalli? We don't have a tengu either."

Celes slapped him. Terra hadn't even noticed her take off the gauntlet.

+x+x+x+

Starlet's Seven left a few hours after Terra had decided on that name. The others all liked it - and Strago and Relm praised Terra for the reasons she chose it. The _Falcon_ had been landed just outside the cave after Locke had directed them to it; after a great deal of coercion from Celes, Setzer allowed Terra to pilot Darril's ship to the Triple Caves, with the warning that if **anything** went wrong she would **never** touch the helm of another airship **again**. Being in her right mind this time, Terra was able to safely fly the _Falcon_ there, and the twelve of them - her, Celes, Locke, Edgar, Sabin, Cyan, Gau, Shadow, Interceptor, Setzer, Strago, and Relm - made their way through the caves.

The golden statues that had occupied the center of the walkway halfway through the cave had been mangled and thrown in one corner of the cavern.

Crusader were waiting in the chamber where Terra, Locke, Strago, and Relm had met the Fenrir squadron. When the group of twelve arrived, the Kishin turned towards them, Alexander's padlocks upon their bodies trembling in their attempts to contain such powerful forces.

"You have arrived."

Terra, at the head of the group, only nodded her head. "You know why we're here," she said firmly. "Take us to... what was once Roku Okoku. To where that madman waits, so that we may see him ruined."

"Arrange yourselves in a circle around us, facing away from us. Link your hands."

No sooner had they given that order than Crusader linked their own hands; and Starlet's Seven gathered around them, turning away.

Terra took Celes' hand.

Celes took Edgar's.

Edgar took Sabin's.

Sabin took Cyan's.

Cyan took Gau's.

Gau took Relm's.

Relm took Shadow's.

Shadow let Interceptor claw his foot before taking Strago's.

Strago took Setzer's.

Setzer took Locke's.

And Locke took Terra's.

Then magic ripped up around them - and each of them screamed in pain as that magic tore them from this world.

* * *

Draco: I'm not going to pretend that "Funeral March" is an appropriate title for this_ chapter_, though. I just wanted to make it clear that we're hitting the endgame.


	48. Demon, Fiend, & Goddess

Draco: You know, all things considered, you really only _explore_, like, the top half of Kefka's Tower. You dive in from the top, and the warp to the madman's throne is at the top, as well. Sure, I suppose the bottom half could be where you fight the Statue of the Gods and it just looks like a void because Kefka's frickin' crazy, but still.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Demon, Fiend &amp; Goddess**

Terra opened her eyes.

She was standing on water. Not _in_ water - her feet rested on the surface, as though it were as solid as the cave she had left. The water was an endless plain in all directions, and the sky above a lightless, silvery glow. They had all linked hands when Crusader had sent them forth, but now her friends were scattered before her, all in various states of kneeling from the pain of their transport - only Celes, nearest her, was still on her feet.

A moment's pause, to ensure all her allies were there; then she turned round.

There was something sitting there. It looked like a _bench_, forged white gold - but it shimmered with magic, indescribable power emanating from it, and after a moment she realized it was a throne.. Lying against one side was a female figure, and upon the other were two males, all cast in black iron, each bearing three eyes upon their faces. Sitting at the woman's fingertips were a trio of coins, each just barely touching the next; across one man's legs was a great axe, a screaming face on the blade's grip to the shaft; and scattered around the other man's feet were what looked like branches torn from a tree.

Horror struck Terra as she realized what these were, and her hand went up to her mouth to stifle her gasp. "The Warring Triad..."

_Quetzalli Gang?_

The madman's voice echoed around them, and everyone went for their weapons.

_No... Quetzalli was a fighter. They picked the one that wasn't a fighter._

Celes drew Lightbringer with a scream of blade against sheath, swinging Paladin onto her arm.

Edgar braced the Crusader's spear in both hands, its tip gleaming.

_And there was a number in there somewhere..._

Sabin raised his fists, adorned with the dragon-and-tiger gloves from Duncan.

Cyan drew the Crusader's katana, both hands closing on the grip.

_The Twelve from Lakshmi?_

Gau gave a low growl, his body trembling as he prepared to change.

Relm raised the paintbrush she had taken from the Sixth Kingdom's studio.

_No, it was five down from twelve..._

Shadow drew his knife, Interceptor barking at his side.

Strago shook his coins into his hand, lashing them into a sword one-handed.

_And they used the little kids' name for Lakshmi..._

Locke drew his blade and throwing edge, prepared to use both.

Terra gripped Ragnarok, her gaze flitting everywhere.

_Starlet's Seven!_

There was a surge from the water before her, and Terra threw her arm before her as the spray rained over her; and when it faded, Kefka was sitting on that throne.

He wasn't the clown he had been before. The paint was washed from his face, and there were shadows under his eyes as though he had been deprived from sleep. The multicoloured garments he normally wore were absent; only a wrap of cloth not unlike a kilt adorned his body, leaving his chest and most of his legs bare. His normally untidy hair was spiked back, with a long tail pooling next to him upon his seat. His hands were set, palms-up, at his sides; his head was bowed, at first, but no sooner had she taken all of this in then he raised his gaze to see her.

"Starlet's Seven." His voice was slower than ever before, far calmer than a madman's voice has right to be. "Welcome to the end."

Terra tightened her grip on Ragnarok's handle. "_Your_ end," she insisted.

Kefka's eyes widened, just slightly. "Really?" He did not raise his voice. "You really think you're going to get out of this? Look around you." Slowly, he raised his hands at his side. "This is what's left of your monster village. Empty waters, with only wreckage and dead men to show anything was ever here. Roku Okoku was a ship. Now that it has been sunk, its passengers and crew have been stranded at sea... or have joined it to the ocean floor."

"I know."

The words caught Kefka off-guard as - slowly - Terra drew Ragnarok, raising it so the tip faced him. "That's not why we're here. Roku Okoku is gone. Its people are gone. Father is gone. We're not here to bring any of them back. We're here to end you. We will accept _anything_ that follows, if only the world will be spared of your fires. The flames of a madman who fancies himself a god."

There was a long, deafening silence.

Then Kefka lashed his head back and laughed - a single, violent note that echoed across the plain of water. His skin began to split on either side of his lips, like a mermaid as her teeth grew; but while a mermaid would see twin, jagged cracks from each tip of her mouth, this only saw a single rip, as though a knife had been taken to his mouth to forcibly tear a smile open. Nonetheless, his mouth still open from his note of laughter, they saw spiked teeth rip from within his mouth, turning his lips crimson with blood as he lashed his head down.

"Well. You're nothing if not confident."

He shot to his feet and slammed one foot into the surface of the water - and the world around them turned _dark_.

"Now, let's see whatcha got to back it up!"

In a moment had that sky turned red, and the ocean been dyed black; and only a moment further passed before it became a plain of necrous rock beneath a fiery sky. Cracks of hellious crimson ripped across its surface, and Starlet's Seven leapt apart as _flames_ spewed where they had been gathered, the earth tearing in every direction from it. Kefka's low-seated throne of white gold was a necrous light in a void of hellious darkness, and the iron-cast figures shattered at its sides as the madman spread his arms. His flesh began to darken, charring from within until the only light on his body was his eyes - and then those eyes became voids of dark purple. Wings shot out of his back - two feathered wings of blinding white, two more of fire-scarred grey, and two leathered wings in black, all of them dripping with blood.

They were nonetheless motionless as his body lifted off the stone beneath his feet, until he peered down on them from higher than a Cyclops would.

"I may not sit on Arubboth's throne, nor that of Pandaemonium, but with this power I could well topple them both! What can you do to stop me? All will burn in the fires I cast through the broken link!"

Without a word between them, Terra lashed her hand down, blasting ice onto the surface of that charred earth; and Celes leapt upon it, letting the ice expand until she was near equal with him.

"You think your random explosions mean anything?" she snapped, raising Lightbringer towards him. "For every hundred homes you ruin, the people of the world will build a thousand more!"

Kefka lashed his hand forward; but Lady Frost only thrust Paladin forward, causing the blast to echo in every direction away from her.

"Who will build new homes when there is no one left to build them? Men, women, and children will all be blown apart!"

Terra lashed another blast of ice to her other side, and Locke leapt upon it, his bladed feet digging into the icy surface as Celes expanded it, raising him equal to herself as the madman turned to him.

"A life is never lost!" he retaliated, bracing his edge to throw. "You can ruin the bodies, but the soul remains unharmed! It flees this world, and is reborn!"

Kefka swept a hand towards him; Stock Barrel simply arced around the pillar with his bladed feet, the blast passing where he had been harmlessly as he reclaimed his perch.

"Humans propagate like fleas, and monsters breed like rabbits! Men wage war, and beasts consume one another! The world is already driving itself towards destruction! What good will your drive do when it all falls apart?"

It was now that Terra leapt skyward for herself, the Sixth Kingdom's magic lighting her body as she arrived equal with her friends and stood upon a plane of air.

"Do you even hear yourself talking?" she demanded. "You're contradicting yourself! You're grasping at straws! You don't even _know_ what your point is! You're just yelling because you want to have the last word!"

Kefka turned towards her, his mouth open as he began stuttering.

"I... you... I...!"

Dances With Swords lashed her hands down, magic wrapping all her friends, and together they lifted higher until they stood on nothing around him.

"We may not be Feymarch, nor might we have any power comparable," she vowed, "but so long as people like _you_ would ruin the world, there will always be men and monsters like _us_ who will see you fall! And _nothing you say_ will change that!"

The madman smirked.

"Prove it!"

He lashed his hand heavenward.

The skies above them turned blinding gold, and no one had time to react before the air around them was consumed in murderous fire.

+x+x+x+

"Lady Dances...?"

The children of Mobliz had stopped their guard after their Lady had left, but Katarin and Duane had taken it upon themselves to keep watch while the younger ones waited below. Cuore, the girl who had returned the small item, had found herself waiting near the steps of the basement in anticipation of some news; at her murmur, the children all turned towards her.

"What is it, Cuore?" Cress asked.

Cuore shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "But... I feel like something's happening to Lady Dances."

Meredy was worried. "You don't think...?"

"No!" Lloyd shouted suddenly. "Lady Dances promised she'd come back! And she's _gonna_ come back!"

"She's gonna be okay," Milla promised. "She stopped Humbaba, she's gonna be okay!"

Lloyd nodded. "Yeah!"

Cuore lowered her gaze. "But..."

"No buts," Cress insisted. "If you're worried, then just tell her you're waiting!"

"Tell her?" Cuore asked. "How?"

"Just say it," Meredy told her.

That was about as vague as instructions could get, but Cuore only closed her eyes.

"Lady Dances... we're waiting for you."

The other children all nodded.

"I'm gonna say it, too," Lloyd added. "Lady Dances, we're waiting for you to come back!"

And one by one, the rest of the younglings waiting for their Lady said the same.

+x+x+x+

_Lady Dances..._

Terra opened her eyes. She could see nothing but flames. "What...?"

_...we're waiting for you._

Her mind was playing tricks on her. She could have sworn she heard Cuore's voice.

_Lady Dances, we're waiting for you to come back!_

The voices of the children of Mobliz echoed around her head, and she wanted nothing more than to tell them she was alright - but in her heart, she knew she couldn't lie to those children.

And her magic understood that - and in an instant, those words were not a lie.

She was lying on the charred plain around Kefka's twisted throne. Her friends were scattered around her, and flames were receding into the stone. Kefka was hovering just over his throne, twin grins on his face - the carved grin, and his own lips; and the moment her eyes were open, the voluntary smile faltered.

"What the...?"

Her fingers brushed against Ragnarok, and she drove it into the stone to support herself as she rose to her knees.

"Did you think that would stop us?"

Flames began to gather around her own feet - vibrant pink flames, thick with the Sixth Kingdom's arcana - as she set them upon the earth and rose tall.

"Did you think _you_ would stop us?"

Her friends began to move around her as she whirled the golden blade in hand.

"You, who would see the world _burn!_"

She leapt skyward, and Kefka had no chance to react before she drew the edge across his torso, digging a deep cut in his flesh - a cut that would not bleed.

And the air around him began to _blaze_.

As Starlet's Seven rose, they saw flames race towards Kefka from across the fiery plains he had forged. Even _he_ could not stop himself from yelling as they dug into him, forcing their way through his flesh, and he lashed his head back in a tortured scream as his body _exploded_, white light wiping the fatigue from the twelve of them.

Terra arced back through the air, landing where she had just been as her friends raised their weapons.

"How did you do that?" Locke demanded.

"I have _no idea!_" Terra replied.

"I think that was Zantetsu!" Edgar exclaimed.

"Can you do that again?" Setzer inquired.

"Let me give it a try!" Celes called.

Dances blasted ice immediately behind Kefka as Frost charged forward, and she expanded it to send her flying - and Kefka whirled around in time for her to lash a skyward strike across his face.

The air around him began to _waver_, shining, and from nowhere did three pearls of light descend. As they arrived at eye level, the madman gazed left and right, swinging at them only for his swings to pass through, and after he had swiped at each once they began to _burst_, wrapping him in blinding light that gave Starlet's Seven new energy.

Celes landed back again.

"Good Bahamut, that was amazing!" Cyan cheered.

"Kefka finished!" Gau whooped.

"I think we can all say yes to that!" Sabin agreed.

Then the madman lashed his hands back and spread his wings wide, and all of them guarded themselves as he _screeched_ with enough force to rattle the earth.

"Shut up! _Shut up!_ I am _sick_ of your optimistic _Mulch!_ If you're all gonna cheer...!"

He swept both arms skyward.

"...do it _after you die!_"

The earth pulled itself apart in all directions beneath him, his throne sinking into the flames that appeared there, and Starlet's Seven leapt away as something _surged_ out of the fire, towering high above them all - a massive statue, blazing gold at first from the heat of the flames it had just left, but slowly cooling to reveal its form.

A sunken, ruined face on a charred body buried in earth from his waist hellward.

Relm stumbled back, horrified at what she saw. "Fiend!"

A beast, engine, and array of bodies, forming four components of the material realm.

Interceptor barked, and Shadow growled in shock. "...Demon?!"

A sorrowful woman bathed in heavenly light, screaming with a man in her arms.

Strago braced his staff against the earth to support himself. "Goddess...!"

And above them all, the madman flew, his arms spread wide.

"Beyond the chaos, the end draws near!"

Cyan was the first to act; the Crusader's katana was gripped between both hands as he charged towards the buried figure at the base of the statue. Fiend's right hand slammed into the earth, propelling a shockwave of flaming ash, but the samurai swung his blade earthward, splitting the fire at his sides. Strago dashed past him, staff and coin sword in hand, and with a swing of the blade the air began to whirl around the imprisoned beast, battering him. The left hand curled into a fist, and sharpened gales surged forward; but the old man simply raised his staff, against which the attacks fell still. Celes promptly charged past him as Fiend roared; the coming magic was stopped with a forward thrust of Paladin, and she quickly lashed Lightbringer against his chest, causing him to roar in pain. Strago swept his coin sword again, and water surged forth from nowhere, slamming into the body full-force; and Cyan charged forward, swinging the katana once, twice, thrice with fierce, sweeping blows against the arms and torso before leaping skyward and slamming a powerful earthward strike into its helm.

The buried Fiend went still, and the pieces of Demon began to move above.

"Climb!" Locke called.

"What?" Edgar demanded.

"A blade'll never get him from down here!" Relm agreed. "Let's move!"

Edgar rolled his eyes, incredulous, before propelling himself into the air, the Crusader's lance in both hands. The tiger's head on the fore of the statue reached forth to bite at him, but the machinist caught the bite on the shaft of his spear, his legs elongating to strike the statue and hold him up. Locke began clambering up the side of the structure, his feet bladed and his throwing edge in hand; the bodies began to move, but the treasure hunter evaded them, striking the ones he passed with the edge before jamming it into the roaring machine. Relm swept her rainbow-headed paintbrush forward, causing what garb the bodies wore to move against them; Locke quickly pulled his throwing edge out as the artist guided the cloths into the gears, strangling their wearers. Edgar quickly arced around the tiger, driving his spear into its helm as the bare form atop it tried to strike at him; the machinist only lashed a few elongating kicks into its chest to stun it before prying the spear out and slamming the butt of it into the being's face. Another body on the back tried to attack the still-climbing Locke, but he only slipped his throwing edge into his belt before drawing out his blade and driving it into the creature's torso.

Demon's machine ceased its roaring, and Goddess began to cry out.

Magic began to tremor from the top of the statue, knocking Locke and Edgar from the machine's surface before they had a chance to climb. Terra managed to suppress - though not entirely cease - their fall with a surge of the Sixth Kingdom's magic, and Shadow and Interceptor began to move, ascending the structure with powerful leaps. Setzer hurled a hand of cards after him - ace, king, queen, jack, and joker - and the cards wove through the air in a way a simple throw oughtn't be capable, slamming into the man in Goddess' arms. He lashed out as the cards dug into them, causing them to part from his arms - and Interceptor quickly leapt up behind him, driving Shadow's knife into his shoulder plate. The assassin quickly rose up between the two, hurling the Crusader's minute blades in a spiral around him, and in an instant they closed on the two figures there, slamming into them mercilessly. He pried them out of each one, hurling them into the other and dashing around their blows as Setzer hurled another hand - two, three, four, five, six - that cut off the body's attempt to strike Shadow from behind.

Goddess closed her eyes, the man in her arms going still.

_Everyone_ was caught off-guard when the _entire statue_ began moving again. Shadow and Interceptor had no chance to react before Goddess' scream stunned them, and the body knocked from the top of the statue. With a roar, the wings of a siren surged out of Gau's back, and he flew skyward with intent to catch them; but the tiger's face nearly bit him in two, and in his evasion his wings were nearly caught in the gears of Demon's machine; only a last-minute shift back to base stopped him from being shredded by the attack, and when the bodies around him began to move he leapt away only to find nothing safe to land on. Terra began to call on the Kingdom's magic, intending to stop their fall - but the buried Fiend lashed a hand forward, and she hardly managed to leap away from the attack as they plummeted. Strago quickly formed waves around Gau and Shadow to lessen the impact, but the landing still hit them pretty hard.

Above them all, Kefka began to laugh at their futility.

"Come on! You can do better than that!"

Terra growled. "Damn it!" she snapped. "What do we do?"

Something sounded around them - something that did not belong here.

The roar of an airship.

Starlet's Seven turned away from the statue to see something flying towards them - a familiar vessel in black and gold. With a yelp, they all leapt aside as it surged far lower than it ought, brushing against the structure and getting knocked aside by the bare figure atop the tiger's head. Setzer was the first to get onto his feet, turning towards the airship - the _Blackjack_.

"My airship!" he exclaimed. "He stole my airship! Son of a bitch!"

Edgar swore under his breath. "I knew I should have brought that Air Anchor..."

Gau charged towards him, taking siren's wings again. "We fly!" he insisted. "Get ship back!" The gambler had no chance to argue before the wild boy grabbed him under the arms and took off with him into the air.

Frost turned to Dances. "You've got to deal with Kefka."

"What?" Terra was incredulous. "Me? But-!"

"You're the only one who can get up there!" Celes insisted. "And the elder's Ultima is the only weapon here that can hurt him! Find out where they put his onyx and smash it, the entire Merge will fall apart if he doesn't have a magic object!"

Terra grit her teeth hesitating; but after only a moment's thought did she realize that Celes was right. "Alright," she insisted. Pointing at the writhing statue; "Keep _that_ thing busy."

"Yeah!"

Then she drew out Ultima and dropped low, and everyone stepped back as vibrant pink flames consumed her body; her flesh within was consumed in a white nova, and she leapt heavenward, gravity loosing its hold on her as she flew towards Kefka holding above the structure he had made of the Warring Triad.

The madman had time only to lower his gaze before Terra lashed Ragnarok skyward up his torso, and he was sent tumbling back - not from pain, but from the force of the blow. He whirled back forward, his six wings spreading, and he raised his gaze to see Terra hold the gold blade towards him, extending her other hand to the side; and there he saw a minute figure, a thin black stick no larger than a flower's stem.

It was poised like a pen - but the moment he took notice of it, she shifted her grip to that of a blade.

Colbalt surged from the weapon; an edge of pure energy.

**Now, _showtime_.**

Kefka grinned, the carved smile extending further across his face as he braced his hands at his sides.

"Curtains, _rise!_"

The two surged towards each other; Terra swung Ragnarok for an earthward blow, but Kefka beat the edge aside with one hand before lashing his other for a strike. Dances took the blow without flinching, bringing Ultima for an in-strike, and Kefka's attempts to stop it on his hand only saw his hand _bladed through_. He screeched in pain, but the pain did not last; the cobalt edge had not even left his flesh before it began to lash itself back together. Terra simply continued her spin, lashing a kick into his face; the fire of her flesh and the voltage of her strike had him reeling, helpless, as she arced Ultima around again, slicing through his shoulder and down the opposite leg, hoping to find the jewel the Gestahlian Empire had embedded in his body.

No such luck; the bladeless edge struck only flesh that rebound itself as it passed, and Kefka swung a skyward kick into her face before his other foot had even been rebound. She moved with the strike, arcing into a backwards flip and lashing Ultima up through his body; he flew after it, slamming his wings on one side across her in a moving blow. She beat them away with Ragnarok before thrusting her weapon earthward, but he only evaded it and punched her in the underside of the jaw. She stuck the gold into his wings and hurled him upward; then she flew after him, spinning with the bladeless edge outstretched as she had against Humbaba; but it struck nothing that would weaken him, and as she peaked her flight above him he shot after her with one hand lashed towards her.

He was stopped as his fingers brushed the edge of the flames around her feet.

Terra couldn't make sense of it - but then she saw it. Minute strands of flesh - thinner than anything she had seen before, thinner than she thought flesh _could_ be - linking him to the massive statue below. After a moment she realized what she was seeing, and she realized _what_ that massive structure was.

_That's **him**. That's part of his Merge!_

Kefka saw what she was doing before she could get started. "No...! Don't you _dare-!_"

Her body _burst_, pink flames ripping out in every direction as she surged earthward, impaling Ragnarok in his torso and leaving him at the end of his wires. She surged earthward towards where her friends were clashing against the great monstrous figure, and as she landed everything on the statue's structure tried to lash out at her. Her friends ceased their clash, approaching her, and Locke was the one who asked, "Terra, what are you-?"

**You need to get on the _Blackjack_.**

Her words caught everyone off-guard. "What's an airship going to do?" Locke demanded.

**That thing** \- and here she pointed at the statue with her empty hand, the Kingdom's magic forcing everything on it to still - **is part of Kefka. That's his Merge of the Warring Triad and everyone from Roku Okoku! You need to get to the _Blackjack_ before I take it down!**

"Take it down?" Celes demanded. "How are you going to do that?"

**Very dangerously**, Terra insisted. **Now get on board! Setzer!** This shout was directed at the airship - and a yoko's voice is such that on board, Setzer and Gau had heard her talking with everyone else.

"Well," Setzer mused, knowing Terra couldn't hear him, "if that's the hand you're going to play, then ante up!"

Gau, still wrapped in a siren's body, gave a cheer - and this, Terra _did_ hear.

The _Blackjack_ flew low - lower than was probably safe - towards Starlet's Seven. Terra opened her empty hand, and the Sixth Kingdom's magic wrapped her friends - and against their protests, for none of them wanted to see her fight alone, they were lifted from the earth and landed upon the deck.

**Get as far away as you can!** Terra told the pilot.

"You got a maximum value on that?" Setzer asked.

**Just _go!_**

The _Blackjack_ soared away, and Terra surged towards the massive statue her friends had been fighting. The half-buried Fiend lashed his hands towards her, but pearls of blinding white magic rose up around her, beating the strikes away as she soared heavenward. The pieces of Demon tried to attack her, but the holy lights surged towards them, stunning them as she soared higher still. As she neared the peak Goddess screamed, trying to throw her off-guard; she only arced back until she flew with her head earthward, raising her empty hand and launching flames towards the man before the tortured face; then she flipped once more as she neared Kefka - who was still trying to wrest Ragnarok out of his chest.

Terra kicked the gold blade's tip with enough force to launch it pommel-first, her strike continuing into Kefka and pushing him until his wires were so tight as to be nearly broken; then she flew skyward and gripped the golden blade before bracing Ultima so the tip of its bladeless edge was levelled on the one only it could harm.

_**It ends here, Kefka!**_

He had no chance to react before she surged forward with all the power in her being, all the magic the Sixth Kingdom had to offer - she cleaved through the madman and continued to surge down the entire structure below him, tearing apart everything it had to offer.

She had connected with the stone below when she heard something shatter.

The _Blackjack_ was soaring as fast as it could, but Starlet's Seven could still see the statue, still identify what had been Demon, Fiend, or Goddess when the blast of ocean magic began to surge around it, the entire structure consumed in a heavenous cobalt light as Kefka, trapped at the end of his line, screamed in sheer pain.

Terra could _feel_ Ultima's blade fade as the magic expanded around her - and she could not feel anything but her fingers around Ragnarok when it condensed, and the structure _burst_, sending her flying.

The last thing she remembered was colliding with the deck of an airship.

* * *

Draco: I've been hearing what is either Square's implications or REALLY hopeful thinking that Final Fantasy VI would be receiving something on the 3DS. Can I only say _screw. That. Mulch._ I will be **very** impressed if the 3DS can handle graphics enough to give VI visuals worth Balance and Ruin. I want to see the Statue of the Gods in all its writhing steampunk glory, and if they're gonna give VII an HD ReMIX I want them to give VI appropriate treatment.

(side note to any Square officials reading this: disregard the above rant in its entirety, if you're gonna give VI a 3DS remake I will object to NOTHING)


	49. Humble Beginnings, Great Expectations

Draco: Alright, I know what I'm going to do for these last two chapters. This will be over quick.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Humble Beginnings, Great Expectations**

_Terra opened her eyes, but she did not wake up._

_She was standing there again - upon the surface of that plain of water, beneath a sky of lightless silver. The flames no longer adorned her body, nor did her robe and sheaths, but neither was she skyclad - her body was wrapped in snowflakes that would guard her as well as any armour. Her friends were nowhere to be seen, and that sight set a sadness into her; yet at the same time, she was relieved that if she was imprisoned here, then at least her friends were not._

_A tear of fire rose in her eye, and it took everything in her power to not let it fall._

_"I should have known it was gonna be you who was gonna beat me."_

_The voice caused Terra to whirl around. The throne of white gold was still sitting there, though the black iron figures of the Warring Triad were absent - and the madman sat there in his sparse kilt, his flesh pale, his face barren of paint and scar. _

_"Kefka..."_

_His hands were closed before him, and he was hunched forward; but slowly, he raised his gaze to Terra._

_"I was Gestahl's 'sucessful failure'," he admitted. "I was strong, and I was useful, and I could **do** stuff, but... I wasn't better than you. And that's what he wanted. Someone better than you, that he could rely on more than a crown around your head."_

_He shook his head, and his gaze fell to his hands._

_"No such luck..."_

_Against all reason, against anything she had cause to feel, Terra was **sorry** for this broken image of the madman who had made her life hell._

_A long silence between them; then he spoke again._

_"What was that nickname that all the commanders would call me when they thought I couldn't hear them?"_

_Terra shook her head. "Kefka-"_

_"Say it."_

_She couldn't say it. She wouldn't give him that pleasure; but it was not a thirst for pleasure that adorned his face as he closed his eyes._

_"Please..."_

_And that was a word she had never heard him say before - a word she could have sworn he would **never** say sincerely - but here he was, giving an honest plea._

_"...say it."_

_"Hell's jester," Terra forced out. "Kefka Palazzo, hell's jester."_

_Kefka nodded slowly upon hearing the words; then he bowed his head further, taking a deep breath, before raising his gaze to Terra and opening his eyes once more._

_"There was an old story. And it said that the emperor of Pandaemonium would watch the mortal world. And he would look for a man who wanted power. And not because he wanted to protect someone, or because he wanted to stop someone, or because he wanted to **do **something. He looked for a man who wanted power because it **was** power."  
_

_His words were calm, quiet, but Terra had not the heart to stop him._

_"But that power would bring the world to ruin. And the world must be in balance in order for souls to be damned to hell. So the emperor would send a man from his palace that he didn't trust to do anything else. That some people wouldn't trust to do that."_

_Quiet, for just long enough to make her wonder if she would continue._

_"A clown."_

_Terra blinked, surprised. "A jester," she gasped._

_"And he would find the man who wanted power. And the clown would make him suffer all the torment that the people of the world would suffer if he got the power he wanted, and brought the world to ruin."_

_She couldn't believe her ears. "That's why you turned on Gestahl," Terra realized. "Because he wanted power. For power's own sake."_

_Kefka breathed tightly between his teeth, his lips not forming a smile nor a frown as he lowered his gaze again._

_"Not really," he admitted. "You see, Gestahl was... **boring**. He just wanted to find a vampire and suck his blood. Because a vampire was the first monster that talked to him like an equal. And if he got the power of a vampire, he would have kicked everything in the ass."_

_Terra did not understand._

_Kefka seemed to realize it. "I know," he insisted, "I know. 'Why would he do that', right? 'What's the point of that', right?" He sighed heavily. "The thing is... that's the kind of guy Gestahl was. And that's the kind of guy the old Gestahl was. They are never satisfied with what they have. That's the whole reason it's an empire now. Because they were too greedy to be kings."_

_After a moment, Terra shook her head, confused. "Then... why did you turn on them?" she demanded._

_The madman smirked as he met her gaze once more._

_"Because it was **boring**," he insisted. "And I don't _**_like_**_ boring."_

_Terra let the corner of her mouth twitch skyward._

_"You still sound like hell's jester to me."_

_Kefka smiled - a geniune smile, the likes of which she could have sworn he would never wear - and bowed his head until his chin connected with his chest._

_Then his arms moved._

_Terra's legs moved faster - she skidded her feet across the water's surface, sending a blaze forward, and no sooner had his hands connected with the edge of the seat, to propel him forward than it burst, consuming him and his throne in fire. The flames were as solid as the earth she had fought upon, hiding away Kefka and his throne as they reached higher, winding about._

_Lightning fell from the lightless silver sky above._

_The moment it connected with the flames, all was consumed in a blinding white, and Terra raised her hand to guard her face._

_When she lowered it, she was shocked at what she saw._

_The flames had frozen over. They were trapped in form, and after a moment she realized that form was a **throne** \- amythest bolts were petrified atop the back of the seat, and the arms were frozen amidst the fires' waver. Just above where her head would rest, were she sitting upon the throne, was script in shining sapphire._

マディンの娘  
Madin no Musume_  
__Daughter of Maduin_

_After a moment did she become aware that her solitude after Kefka's burn had ended._

_Her gaze drifted left to see someone there. A man covered in armour, with feathered wings emerging from gaps in the backplate, and he gripped a great axe - and at his side was the steel-clad Crusader, who had carried the lance._

_"...Demon..."_

_H__er gaze drifted to the right, now, and she saw another figure there. His flesh was a deep purple, with four muscled arms. From his back emerged leathered wings, and his features were sunken into his face - and at his side was the leather-clad Crusader, who had carried the katana._

_"...Fiend..."_

_Her gaze continued to drift to the right, and she saw someone standing behind her. A woman adorned in cloth of cobalt, ribbons that only just maintained her modesty - and at her side was the gold-clad Crusader, whose minute blades hadn't touched her._

_"...Goddess..."_

_No sooner had she seen all three of them than the third eye on each of their faces opened - and at once, the Warring Triad spoke._

_"""This throne will be yours - and one day, you **will** take it.""""_

_Terra could scarcely breathe as the Crusader stepped forward around her._

_"We have lived for a hundred years - and we will live a thousand more. Those who commanded us took our own power, and made us immortal in our own flames - and so we shall keep an eye on this world, to watch for men like him - and aid monsters like you."_

_Terra shook her head, caring not what these Yasha and Kishin told her. "Please," she begged. "Tell me. My friends - are they alright?"_

_"""They are alive and well."""_

_The words of the Warring Triad brought a smile to her face._

_"""As are you."""  
_

_She could not make sense of the words before the world faded around her._

+x+x+x+

It felt strange - to open her eyes, when they had not been closed.

She was lying upon the deck of an airship. Her robe adorned her body, but the band in her hair was absent. After a moment, she found the strength to rise - this was the _Falcon_, flying beneath a clouded night sky. "What...?"

"Terra!"

She couldn't react before she felt arms around her - Celes was there, hugging her tight. A brief gasp; then Terra returned the hug. "Celes..." She glanced around - Setzer was at the helm, and Locke leaning against the railing with something hidden behind his back. "Where is... everyone else?"

"On the _Blackjack_," Setzer replied. "We rode the wave of that explosion and came out near the cave to Roku Okoku. You were lying here when we found you. I told the others to meet me..." He hesitated before deciding on, "where I'll be mooring the _Falcon_. If the _Blackjack_ is still alive, I have wings of my own."

"I see..." Terra slowly got to her feet, turning to Locke. "What are you hiding?"

Locke smirked and tossed something onto the deck.

It was a pair of zebra tights.

"That's all that's left of that crazy clown," the treasure hunter mused.

Terra didn't even hesitate; her feet skidded across the deck, and a flame surged forward, consuming the garment. Setzer yelped, spinning round and backing up against the helm - but the flames didn't even scratch the vessel as the zebra tights were burned to ashes.

Locke only chuckled. "I thought you'd want the honours," he admitted.

Setzer sighed, turning back to the helm. "A little warning, next time," he reprimanded.

"Sorry," Terra murmured. "I just-"

"We know," Celes promised.

A long silence.

The pilot broke it. "Terra... Can I ask you a favour? If... If your magic is capable."

Terra turned to him. "What did you want?"

Setzer beckoned her closer, and when she was near enough he whispered his request into her ear.

A small smile rose on Terra's face as she nodded. "I think I can handle that," she told him.

Magic lit up around her body - and that magic slowly wrapped the ship. Celes steadied herself warily, and Locke stepped away from the railing as the ship began to rise higher, higher, until the blanket of clouds passed around them.

And they saw the night sky, unimpeded by anything around them.

Falcon Flyer sighed, glancing around at the starry sky.

"What do you think of the view, Darill?"

+x+x+x+

The _Falcon_ was set back into Darill's tomb, and Starlet's Seven gathered on the _Blackjack_. After some discussion, they agreed to go their separate ways - for now - and so Setzer flew back to Thamasa, to drop off Strago and Relm.

"I think I'll get off here, too," Shadow insisted as they touched down. "I left something at the Triple Caves."

The four of them - Blue Wizard, Angel Brush, Interceptor, and the blade for hire - made their way down the boarding plank. Relm took off ahead of them, telling Strago she'd "meetcha back at the house!" and leaving Yasha and assassin standing there as the airship took off.

"I have _no idea_ where she gets all that energy," Strago insisted.

Shadow shrugged. "She's young," he insisted, turning to take off.

He found himself interrupted by the contact of coins against his hand; and he turned to see Strago with his coin sword in hand.

"You're _him_, aren't you?" the old man demanded.

"I have _never_ met you without this cowl," Shadow insisted. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Your dog is gone again," Strago observed.

Shadow glanced down to find there was no dog there. "Shit."

Strago pulled his weapon away, letting the coins fall apart and land in his staff. "Don't worry," he insisted. "I have no intention of making you stay. And I have not the strength to make you explain yourself. I just..." He sighed. "I want to know. For her sake."

A long quiet.

Then Shadow reached one hand up, gripping his cowl - and as Strago watched, he pulled it from his head, his eyes closed.

When he opened them, there were three.

Strago closed his own eyes. "I thought as much," he admitted. "I'll tell Interceptor to meet you at the Triple Caves."

He took off; and Shadow gave his cowl a long look before setting it back over his head.

+x+x+x+

Gau leapt from the _Blackjack_'s deck as they passed over the Veldt en route to Doma - the rest of the group panicked before seeing Badland Roar with siren's wings. They landed outside the castle for Cyan to dismount, but Setzer was hesitant.

"You're sure you want to hang around the empty castle where everyone you know died?" he asked.

"My, thou art quite _adept_ at lifting one's mood, aren't thee?" Eclipse Fang observed, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I have unfinished business in Doma, and I assure thee I can handle mine own memories. Once I am finished, I have transportation for my next destination. Worry not for me."

"If you're certain," Setzer insisted warily.

+x+x+x+

They landed outside Castle Figaro, whereupon Edgar and Sabin made their way off.

"Can I ask you something?" Phantom Fist called to Setzer when they were halfway down the boarding plank. On the gambler's turning; "What was your reaction to this?"

He tossed a small gold coin at the pilot, who could already answer before he caught it with a swipe of his hand; he glanced down to see the Figaro brothers' faces on either side. "What do you mean?"

"Celes flipped it to rig a bet, didn't she?" Desert Gear inquired. "You must have been pissed to see a double-headed coin."

Setzer shook his head. "There is not the same face on both sides of the coin," he insisted. "The fancier side is always heads when a coin is not standard."

Sabin shot his brother a dirty look.

"However," Setzer insisted, "had you two flipped it to settle a dispute, the victor would be whoever saw their own face."

Edgar was surprised by the statement.

The gambler only stepped back into the ship as they continued down the boarding plank, and the _Blackjack_ took off the moment the brothers had touched the sands.

+x+x+x+

Locke and Celes insisted they would see Terra to Mobliz - although Setzer was careful to land the airship a good distance away from the village. "You're sure you're going to be alright?" Lady Frost asked.

"I'll be fine," Terra assured them. "I'll get in touch with you guys after everything's settled down."

Stock Barrel sighed. "We'll hold you to that," he insisted.

Terra smirked. "I'd be more surprised if you didn't," she admitted.

They closed the bay doors as the airship took off.

"You sure she's gonna be alright?" Locke inquired.

"Of course she'll be alright," Celes argued. "Nothing will lay a hand on her when she's got those kids to take care of."

Locke gave her a look.

"I'll explain on the way," she dismissed. "Where are you off to?"

"I think I'll stop by Narshe first," he mused. "Then maybe Kohlingen. You?"

Celes smirked. "You know what? I think I'll just join you."

Locke merely smiled back.

+x+x+x+

As soon as Terra stepped into Mobliz, she called upon her magic. The ruined homes began to piece themselves together as she walked towards the building where everyone had taken cover. Katarin and Duane saw her coming before she had even began, and the moment she opened the door she found herself surrounded by the children's smiling faces.

"Lady Dances! You're back!"

Terra only returned their smiles. "I promised, didn't I?"

Katarin stepped forward. "Do we... Need we still hide?" she inquired. "We've been-"

"No," Terra assured them. "Hiding won't be necessary. But... I think it's best if we all stay in one place, don't you agree?"

"So, we'll stay in here?" Duane mused. "I mean, it's the only place big enough that's still standing."

Terra raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

Everyone traded glances with someone else; Terra only giggled lightly before beckoning for them to follow her.

All the children cheered when they saw the village had been repaired. Every home had been restored, as though it had never been ruined - and after giving them a moment to be happy, Terra led them all to the biggest home in the village - the one that had previously fallen to the madman's flames. Duane and Katarin were wary of entering the home that they had nearly died in, but nonetheless accompanied the children as they stepped inside.

The next few days were spent getting everyone moved into the largest home. The first night it was vacated, Terra repaired the home where everyone had been taking refuge, eliminating that last physical memory of that dark time. Before long, they were all settled into that large home - and Terra was relieved when none of the children came to her, saying they had had a nightmare of that horrible night.

A few nights after everyone had settled into the new methods, Terra found herself writing a letter.

_Dear Celes,  
I promised I'd contact you, and I'm sorry if this is a bit... unorthodox. I'm really lacking in other forms of communication from here. Mobliz is back to normal - all the homes restored, all the children smiling. We've all taken up residence in the largest home, but these children would fare better with parents to care for them. If you or any of the others know of any who would be willing to aid these children, please direct them to come to Mobliz.  
I'm sure you anticipated otherwise, but I will be staying here. I can't leave these children. It's not just a matter of protection anymore. When you care for someone, you want to make sure they're alright. And seeing these children alright helps keep a smile on my face. If you would come visit me, I invite it, but I will be staying here until further notice - and I'm sorry, but nothing you or anyone can say will change that.  
Please give the others my regards.  
~Terra_

She lowered her gaze to the sheathed Ragnarok, which she had set against the table she was using; she had already collected the tri-elemental blades she and Celes had left here before, but something about the sword from Zantetsu made the children wary when she carried it with her. And if she was honest, she felt wary around it, too - she could still remember Kefka's screaming laughter, and that nightmarish vision with Crusader and the Warring Triad after he had fallen, every time she saw the golden blade.

_Post scriptum: I have our weapons we had prior forgotten, but the children are uneasy around Ragnarok. Please find it enclosed, knowing that I am no longer afraid to be around these children and still dance with my swords._

She folded the letter once, and bound it to the weapon's sheath with a small piece of thread; then she stepped outside, where she let her magic take the weapon and vanish it. Knowing it would arrive with Celes, she then made her way to the back of the village, where there was a large stone wall - Katarin had told her that it had once been a cave, or so the elder members of the village had said, but it had been filled long ago.

She wondered if she would be able to make it a cave again.

Her magic came to her, and she was cautious as she loosed it. The cave began to hollow - stone became sand, flowing out like water and being cast towards the sea. As she advanced further, the cave went deeper, and deeper, until her carefully measured arcana stopped - this was as far as the cave would go and not be a tunnel.

Terra's gaze shifted around the area. There was a lot to it, and already she was considering how she might make it a little less... _cave_. Fabrics across the walls, perhaps; something to lessen the feeling of being deep underground, which made her uncomfortable, though only slightly. Ornamentation, perhaps; she remembered some ridiculously long pearl strings in the _Blackjack_ that Setzer insisted were necklaces. Torches, definitely; it was quite dark as it was, without anything to light it, and that would be of ill comfort. And something to adorn the place - yet here her feet shifted, idle as she was. A few girls among the children had taken to nail-panting, and had done her toenails with pink flames just that night - and so her feet were bare, and she could feel something beneath her feet that didn't seem like it belonged.

Her gaze went earthward.

At the far end of the cave was a small patch of _grass_.

She dropped to her knees, plucking a blade from the grass and looking over it curiously. Something about it was horribly familiar - it just _felt_ different from normal grass. On the end of one finger she formed a minute flame, bringing it close - the grass was not emerald, as grass ought be, but bright gold. As the flame drew closer, its colour seemed to shift, fading to a deep crimson, until the fire brushed against it and it ignited, smoking far more than grass ought be. She extinguished the flame quickly, but not before getting a face full of smoke and receiving a long coughing fit.

Her eyes widened. The _scent_ of the smoke was familiar, and now she knew where from. She had seen this grass outside the castle of the Sixth Kingdom, and smelled this smoke when the Crusader had duelled with one another, and set the grass alight. She looked at the blade again - it was no longer gold, but bright silver, and more intact than anything that had just been set alight had reason to be.

She set the blade down upon the cave floor, glancing around the cave again.

The next few hours of the night, Terra spent adorning the cave. She found a chandelier in a closet of one home, and hung it in the cavern - making a mental note to contact Setzer, and request he bring her candles. In another she found a small, comfortable chair in cobalt, and in another an equally comfy loveseat of crimson velvet; both of them were moved to the cavern, along with a low-resting table of deep ebony and a small, decorative woven basket. In one home was a tank of water, though any fish that would have resided in it had have been washed to the floor when the tank had shattered, during the quake, and been removed from the home when she had repaired it. Nonetheless, she moved it in as well, to provide some scenery until she could adorn the walls - an addition was made to that mental note for Setzer to contact Edgar and ask if Figaro Castle had any expanses of fabric that he never used, or to contact Cyan in case Doma's torches were still intact.

She sat herself on the loveseat when all was done, a bright smile on her face; her body was slightly tired, and after a moment she angled herself in the loveseat so that her feet would sit up on one arm, and her own arms could dangle over the other.

And when her arms dangled, she felt them collide - just lightly - with something _solid_.

Her gaze shifted over the arm - there _was_ something off against the side of the loveseat. For a moment she was worried that the seat was damaged, but after circling the chair she realized there was a pocket on the side, and she reached inside.

It was an opium pipe that had been snapped in two.

A shame, too, for the pipe looked _beautiful_.

A long, moment, deep in thought; then Terra reached into her pocket, where she still had Ultima. She drew it out, comparing it to the pipe - the tube of the broken item was as thin as the weapon, perhaps just a mote thinner. Carefully, Terra pulled the mouth and the tip of the pipe off its shaft; and, experimentally, she slipped them onto the ends of Ultima.

They fit perfectly.

She turned to the patch of grass on the far end of the cavern. Her magic came to her, and she sliced the blades to a third of their length, letting them drift towards her. She let them gather in the basket - all but a few, which she lay criss-cross into the mouth of the pipe she had made from her weapon.

The blades turned red as she set a fire into them; and slowly, Terra raised the pipe to her mouth. She made the mistake of inhaling through the pipe, which had a combination effect of extinguishing the flame, disturbing the grass, and sucking smoke straight into her mouth; she pulled the pipe away and coughed as violently as she had when lighting a lone blade of the grass. She tried again, setting her mouth on the end of the pipe and holding it there, not inhaling nor exhaling; then she pulled away and breathed out, watching her breath smoking in the air before her.

She felt no different - but she was quite amused by the sight, and the smell of the burning grass reminded her of the Sixth Kingdom's castle, which in turn reminded her of Roku Okoku, which in turn reminded her of her father.

And her father was not someone she wanted to forget.

She poised herself across the loveseat again; this time she crossed her legs at the ankles, right over left, took the pipe in her left hand, set her elbow against the arm on that side, and curled her index finger over her right ear - the traditional 'hitsuzen' posture.

She would not speak with Celes, in person, for several years.

* * *

Draco: I am really mad at myself because I spammed Ultima against the Statue of the Gods so I could steal Ragnarok and get out alive and now I'm going to have to do something tricky and self-limiting to have fun on that fight on this save file.

Interface spoiler, for future reference. I never have a bottomside author's comment on the last chapter of a multi-part fanfic, unless you count the double-oneshot that is Light Warriors' New Clothes as a multi-part fanfic.

Is there anything I actually _dislike_ about Final Fantasy VI? Yes. The first is that Odin and Raiden have different slots on the Esper menu, because that empty space drives me **crazy**. But more importantly, I hate the fact that Kefka - the awesome, epic madman that he is - doesn't get a final one-on-one scene with any sense of finality the way that Sephiroth and Caius and the like do. I mean, I know that VI does its best to have no real _main character_, and with Terra being optional in the World of Ruin you couldn't get a one-on-one between them, but this guy _deserves_ something final. Something more than an oversized boss fight.


	50. Ending Suite

Draco: Alright, last one. Let's do this. Fair warning - no, Celes did not recite _all 48 chapters_ between 1 and 50, the tale told was really more... abbreviated. And she doesn't even know everything that happened in there.

Characters, weapons, origins, locations © Square Enix. Monsters © Akihisa Ikeda.

* * *

**Ending Suite**

"It's been... three years since then."

The seaside town of New Bodhum was a small community, with a small number of people who enjoyed what it had to offer. NORA House was a small business for that small community, and everyone knew what it had to offer.

But when surrounded by people who know not what you really are, it can be relieving to spend some time with someone from outside of such a close-knit community - and as such, with night having fallen and the beach empty, Lebreau and Sazh sat on the deck of NORA House with Lady Frost and her friends from Starlet's Seven, as they told a story of monsters much like themselves.

"That's kinda crazy," Lebreau observed. "How often do you talk with Terra?"

"I don't," Celes admitted. "Not in person, anyways. She writes me letters now and then, and sometimes I'll get back to her, but I haven't actually _spoken_ with her since then. I've been meaning to, but... I never got around to it."

Setzer finished off his sixth glass of Angel Feathers. "I bring her a few things now and then," he admitted. "Fresh candles. Renovation supplies. Oxyale."

"_Oxyale_?" Sazh exclaimed. "You mean that Coronet-era mineral water?"

"I'm not really sure what she wants with it, either," Setzer admitted.

Sabin and Edgar were both blitzed and half-conscious in their seats. Lebreau got to her feet and picked up their empty bottles of Judgement Bolt, taking them back inside as Sazh leaned forward. "So," he mused, "I never did ask what brings you guys here."

Celes shrugged. "Setzer's got a little something he wants to check out," she admitted. "We were asked to meet here to get some papers."

"Papers?" Sazh inquired. Turning to the gambler; "Something sneaky, then?"

"I guess you could say that," Setzer admitted.

Lebreau came back out in time to hear someone across the beach yelling her name, and everyone turned to see a muscled figure charging towards NORA House. Setzer's hand went for his cards before Sazh stayed him, and Lebreau sighed, getting to her feet. "Gadot," she reprimanded as the bruiser neared the bar, "you're being loud again."

"I found a kid wandering around just north," Gadot mused, not responding to Lebreau's reprimand. "Said she was asking for some kinda Falco."

The bartender turned to Setzer.

Setzer rolled his eyes. "Fal_con_," he insisted. "Falcon Flyer, Setzer Gabbiani. That's me."

"Yeah, he wasn't listening."

Gadot whirled around, nearly backhanding the girl who had appeared behind him. Setzer chuckled as he got to his feet. "Gadot, Lebreau, Sazh," he mused, "may I introduce Angel Brush, Relm Arrowny."

The bruiser raised an eyebrow. "Angel Brush?" he demanded. "What the hell?"

"Hey," Celes reprimanded, "if she can threaten me with a paintbrush, she can call herself _whatever_ she wants."

Relm rolled her eyes, reaching back under her cape and drawing out a folder. "Got your papers, Setzer," she admitted. "You're all set."

"Right, then," Setzer mused, getting to his feet. "We'd best be off. Blue bring you?"

"Yeah," Relm replied. "We got a ride, don't worry about us."

"Very well." The gambler turned to Celes. "Let's get these two to the _Blackjack_," he mused, beckoning to the Figaro brothers, "we'll drop them off at the castle. Where are you headed? I can't well bring you."

Celes hummed, thoughtful. "Drop me off at Maranda," she replied. "I'm gonna pay Terra a visit. I don't have anything to distract me this time."

Setzer nodded, understanding her choice of location. "Right then."

The gambler grabbed Sabin, and the knight grabbed Edgar, and they started away from NORA House. Sazh waited until they were down the stairs before asking, "So, where are you doing your espionage?"

Setzer turned to him with a smirk.

"Yokai Acadaemy."


End file.
